The Becoming of the Banshee
by rings of purity
Summary: After S4, everyone's life seems okay for now, except for Lydia. Trying to learn how to control and carefully use her abilities as a Banshee, she realizes it's going to take a while to learn how to handle herself and this is just the beginning. Includes vague mentions of Stydia.
1. Chapter 1

summary.

After S4, everyone's life seems okay for now, except for Lydia. Trying to learn how to control and carefully use her abilities as a Banshee, she realizes it's going to be a while to handle herself and this is just the beginning.

Two-shot.

Lydia M., Liam, Dr. Deaton

Teen Wolf.

* * *

_I do not owe any characters, plot, etc. It all belongs to the mastermind behind "Teen Wolf", Jeff Davis._

* * *

It wasn't a second later when Lydia came barreling in the vet clinic from her parked car, distress and anxiety masking her body. She pushed past the doors and Dr. Deaton knew well to let her in the room where he was working in. Her eyes darted back and forth as she turned around, a slight tremble and insecurity in her words. Her knuckles turned a shade of white as she grasped her purse a little too hard.

At first, her mouth was slightly open, trying to get the words out that made her chest tighten and her mind going angry. All of the sudden, she yelled out the words she dreaded the most in the world.

"I'm a Banshee and I can't control it!"

Yes, all of that was true. She was a Banshee and still didn't have full control of her actions. It wasn't as easy as she would've thought it would be. All she did was create an ear-piercing, glass-shattering deafening scream when someone died or is about to. And everyone comes straight to the scene to do the rest of the work themselves. She can also hear voices in her head, that if told to anyone, will make her seem like a complete psycho who was placed in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

Well, not completely. Although she is able to tell herself that she did a good thing (something that had positive results and turned out to be effective for once), Lydia almost always feels like she's missing something to be sure of her usefulness in the pack. Because of this, Lydia has complained about going to pack meetings, which has earned her a slightly callous attitude from Derek some of the time. The only reason she goes is for Stiles' sake, who persistently argues that Derek scares him and that someone needs to protect his fragile, skinny self. Lydia tells him he has Scott and Malia, but he still stands on his ground. It's obvious he still feels something towards her, but she doesn't take a second glance for the moment.

There was complete silence in the room and Lydia seemed more agitated by the second. She thought about reconsidering her idea of going to Peter, but no good would be there. Just the sight of him made her feel sick, the way he had used her to bring himself back to earth and his twisted malicious smirk that she's still not used to seeing. Either way, why him anways? No, it doesn't matter to her. She just wants answers.

Lydia sighed and waved her arms about at Deaton, who is currently labeling some glass sample bottles. "...Well?"

Deaton stops for a minute before letting go of the Sharpie and a bottle. He goes to the front door and turns over the "OPEN" sign to its antonym, even though it's 4:20 and Scott would be here in less than 25.

He comes back to the room and points to a chair behind her. "There's a chair behind you, Lydia. Take a seat if you like. I assume we have important matters to be discussed?"

The strawberry-blonde nods with a bit more confidence and twirled around, only to be met with the only freshman face she knows of.

Liam Dunbar.

Lydia pursed her lips and crosses her arms over her chest, beautiful chartreuse-like eyes narrowed at his presence. "What's he doing here?"

"Waiting for Scott." He simply answers with a shrug.

"Can't you wait _outside_?" Time was ticking and her patience was at a low today. If she wanted answers, she was going to get them no matter how. "You know what, never mind." Lydia waved him off with a flick of her wrist and moved her seat closer to Deaton.

Deaton motions Liam to take a seat somewhere else and turns his attention to Lydia. "Please, start us off."

With a small sigh and the fidgeting of fingers, she takes over the conversation for the first part. Lydia is nervous as hell and tries to calm her self as fast as she can, knowing Scott will be arriving there soon and that there's a werewolf right behind her. She doesn't know why she has the impulse to hide this from her Alpha. Surely he would understand her problems and be a bit of a support for her, right?

"I feel like I'm missing out on something..." Lydia starts it off, sort of reluctantly. "Other than screaming and just sensing death." She stares at Deaton and hopes he has the answers she's scavenging for.

The veterinarian nods. "What do you feel that makes you think that you're missing out on something?"

Lydia stares deeply into the leather stichings and black laces of her boots that make her seem an inch taller. How can she answer such a simple question that practically revolves around her mission to learn how to control these Banshee abilities she never asked for? She could probably think a million reasons why she doesn't feel connected to anyone in the pack, but the more she thinks about it, the more it seems like it has nothing to do with right now.

"I don't know...I guess, usefulness...?" Gosh, did she hate the way she made her self sound so weak, when she's suppose to be the strong one right now. All confidence she had before, vanished.

"Was that a question or a statement?" Deaton asks, assuring that she would rethink again.

Lydia noticed the slight change in voice and furrowed her eyebrows. Her back straighten a bit as both arms rested on each side of the chair, a leg crossed over the other.

"Usefulness..." A voice now a hushed whisper.

"Is that all you feel, or is there more?"

"For now, I assume that's all-" Lydia does a double-take and rolls her eyes at Deaton, almost coming back to her old self. "Why are we even talking about this? Shouldn't we be focusing on my invisible powers or something? That is, if I have powers..."

Deaton lets out a small chuckle, then goes back to being serious as he now commences his questionnaires. "All right. I know you do not plan on staying the whole afternoon, so let me ask first-"

The Banshee nods and prepares to respond at whatever question he throws at her.

Deaton stares at her before asking, "What do you know about Banshees? Just name one thing you know about them, or all. Your choice."

Lydia freezes in her spot as she goes over the question Deaton asked her. What did she really know about them? Does she even know anything at all?

She knows she should've done her research before even coming.

Lydia almost forgot Liam was right behind her, who just picked up her unpleasant scent of embarrassment and anxiety with a touch of citrus and lavender.

"She doesn't know anything," Liam replied as his legs swung up and down from where he was perched. Lydia whirled around and shot him a glare, almost challenging him to say something else. "The scent is very empowering."

The strawberry-blonde huffed and crossed her arms. "How would you know? Remember, they still chain you up because you can't be relied on to be by your own," She showed off a smug smile. "So, in theory, we can't-well, I can't- rely on you to be telling the plain truth."

Liam jumps off the table and before he can retort anything back to her, Deaton strucks out his hand, signaling to stop before everything gets out of control.

Surprisingly, his voice was calm and focused. He looked at both teenagers and settled back into his chair. "Enough, the two of you. Lydia?"

Liam sat back on the table and glowered at the banshee, keeping his distance.

Lydia hummed and nodded. "Well, I know that they can sense death when it's about to happen or happened. They start to wail -well, scream, actually- when it happens. We can also hear...um, voices..." She trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"Good, but that's just the beginning." The veterinarian walks over to a closet and prys open the doors, retrieving an old, wrinkled leather book which was covered in a decade-old newspaper. The book was rather dusty and big, big enough to compare its self to a textbook, by length.

Deaton flipped open the book and skipped a few pages until he stopped at a subheading which said in big, bold letters: **_ BANSHEE PHYSIOLOGIA. _**

Which means Banshee Physiology in English. The bold lettering is in Latin, so Lydia can understand for the most part.

"This will tell you what you need to know about who you are, the different abilities you have -which varies-, how to gain control, etc." Deaton replies, pausing for a second so that the two teenagers (specifically Lydia) can absorb this new information. He continues. "But I'll only let you see half of it. The rest is for homework."

He turns to the next page and lets Lydia take a good a look at it, the detailed sketches and markings, with specific captions and different subheadings that tells everything there is about Banshees. The introduction was about a page full, following with the different abilities/powers and what they do, then its associations. Everything there was in the book intrigued Lydia Martin, enough to go pass the limits Deaton had given her.

In a quick, but gentle motion, he swipes the book out of her hands and places a bookmark in between the pages, saving their place until he opens the book again. Deaton looks at both teens with a small smile. "Begin," He glances at Liam. "You may also participate, Liam. It can be a good way to know who you are up against."

The beta almost rolls his eyes at his comment, but nods out of politeness. "Um, okay."

Lydia clears her throat and tries to remember what she read. "The Banshee is a feminine spirit who comes from the Otherworld, an omen of death. Almost like a messenger. It's from Irish mythology and it's said that traditionally, the Banshee derives from a woman who's been murdered or a woman who died giving birth to a child." She practically shudders at the last part, but keeps her self cool and calm.

"Traditionally," Deaton replies, sensing Lydia's slight discomfort from the last sentence and reassures her.

"Um, actually, it said that they usually are faery-woman or a ghost and that it's often of a...what she said, yeah." Liam responds rather sheepishly, knowing that he's not supposed to be answering Deaton's questions. To him, anyways.

"No, you're right. Back then, that's what many people believed Banshees were. But this is modern times, so you could've gotten the power in another way, Lydia." Deaton replied. "Do you know how?"

Lydia's mind is just somewhere else in the world as she repeats the last few words Deaton said.

_Do you know how?_

Her mind goes blank and several seconds later, she can memorize the voice of her grandmother, Lorraine, sobbing and pleading to Brunski that he wouldn't do anything to _Ariel. _

Ariel. It was the nickname Lorraine had given Lydia for her love of _The Little Mermaid. _Something that would be a personal connection between the two, even though it hurts her.

But rewinding even further and Lydia would be taken back to where Brunski had played a tape where Lorraine was admitting that she could hear voices, trying to convince the parapsychologists that she wasn't crazy. Unfortunately for her, she was moved to Eichen House where Brunski later killed her.

Lydia had her suspicions that her grandmother was also a Banshee like her. But her mother, she doesn't know. Lydia never heard her mutter about hearing things, and she usually acts like everything's okay and-

"Lydia?"

The strawberry-blonde snaps back into reality and looks over to Deaton, who seems concerned about her six-minute long silence.

She shakes her head and let's out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "I'm fine. I mean, it could've been Peter, but-"

"Peter doesn't exactly seem like the type of person to give you access to powers like that," The veterinarian quirks an eyebrow and continues. "But he could have open the passage of _revealing _them." He gives 'revealing' extra emphasis.

Lydia nods, pauses and speaks up again. "Wait, but why didn't I turn into a werewolf like him? He bit me, didn't he?"

"Yes, but apparently you were immune against the bite." Deaton replies.

"How? How was I immune to it and why?" Lydia presses the current topic even further, now deciding to get all the answers she wants. Her mind was clouded with endless questions, nagging constantly to keep asking and asking. She had a feeling she was giving the wrong impression to Liam, making him wonder if she really wanted to become a werewolf in the first place. After all, looking at what it did to Erica, Lydia probably wouldn't mind becoming a tad bit more attractive to all her fellow classmates in school. But being a Banshee was certainly even better than being a freaking werewolf with distasteful-looking claws and unnecessary extra facial lines.

"Uh, guys..." Liam cleared his throat, feeling quite out of place in the situation that's taking place. "I think we're going off topic with this..."

"Liam's right," Deaton gives an acknowledging nod towards him and glances at the clock. "And we're almost out of time here." He looks at Lydia. "That's a good question, Lydia, but I'm afraid we'll have to get to that some other time. I do believe, however, it might be family-related. Might. We still don't know, but we'll talk about that tomorrow."

The banshee nods and starts to pick up her bag from the chair. "So, I come in tomorrow after school, right? It's a Friday."

Deaton nods. "Yes, both of you come. I might need some extra assistance in planning tomorrow."

Both teenagers silently agree and don't dare to ask upon his last sentence. Lydia spares a one-second glance at Liam and almost gives in to a small smile. She might not know him that well yet, but she has a feeling that they'll have a closer connection between them. Not in a romantic way, of course, but just keeping it friendly and becoming good allies, having each other's backs. Just like her and Stiles.

Everyone knows they both share a closely kept connection, maybe even closer than what Stiles shares with Malia. And the next time Lydia calls him, it won't be because she found a dead body. He will just be the second person to know about what she can now do as a Banshee. Stiles will love her more or less. Depends.

As Lydia saunters over to her car in the parking lot, Liam catches up to her with a pen in hand. She looks over at him and waits for him to say something.

"He said to do your homework." Is all Liam said. He gives the pen to her but she waves it away dismissively.

"It ran out of ink," Lydia responded before opening the door. "And I never forget to do my homework."

This time, she does let the ends of her lips curl up in a small smile.

Lydia drives away, unknowingly passing by a familiar Alpha and leaving a slightly amused werewolf behind.


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own any Teen Wolf characters, just the plot. _

* * *

The signaling of the end of sixth period rung through the noisy school halls, students now packing the fairly evened space of stairs and going to their lockers.

Unfortunately for Liam, the school bell thundered against his ear drum, almost like a loud banging motion going as fast as 70 miles per hour. His face went pale and his hands instantly went to cover his ears, books and papers falling at his sneakers. It wouldn't stop the noise from getting inside, but it sort of dulled it down to a reasonable volume. Though, the echo still ever so present.

The bell had stopped but he still had his hands to his ears, earning some curious glances from random students. Liam rested his head against his locker, sighing, and went ahead to enter his locker combination. After that was done, he reached down to pick up his books and papers, shoving them inside the metal casing. It wasn't long before his best friend Mason appeared beside him.

"Hey man, you okay?"

Liam looked at his friend and could somewhat smell the concern on him. He nodded and waved it off like nothing happened. "Yeah, totally. Why?"

"Nothing, it just seemed like the bell was giving you a hard time today." Mason shrugged and peeked behind him before turning his attention to Liam. "Hey, I don't think I'll be able to go to lunch today. Going to the library to get something done for English. Is that okay with you?"

Liam looked past Mason and shook his head, a smile on his lips. He patted his friend on the shoulder. "Have fun." Is all he said before heading to the lunchroom. He could sense Mason smiling and hear him turn around before turning back at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

The beta nodded and called out, "Totally fine."

Thank god Mason wasn't going to be there to bug him about seeing a doctor.

* * *

Students piled on the lunch line and Lydia was sitting at another table away from where she would usually sit.

Today she wanted a period to herself, to look through her findings and try to point out stuff that stand out to her. She did find some interesting facts, though. Something about Celtic Deity, Faery and Spiritual physiology. Lydia could easily rule out the Spiritual part, knowing that she had no association with it whatsoever. The other two were her top priority.

For a moment, Lydia felt curious as to why the pack wasn't there yet. She looked left and right, but no sign of them. They couldn't have possibly skipped school, knowing Stiles too well and Scott who can't afford to fail any class this year. But at least it give Lydia some relief that she wouldn't have to pause her train of thoughts, especially now.

"I thought you said you never forget to do your homework." A familiar voice quipped.

Lydia rolled her eyes and moved her papers around so that he would have space for his lunch tray. "Yeah, and I also don't procrastinate if that's what you're also thinking." She peeked at his lunch bbefore wrinkling her nose. Lydia plucks an apple from her bag and polishes it with a napkin, taking a bite. "Where's your friend?"

Liam looks up at her and shrugged. "He's busy." His eyes wandered over to the papers scattered across the table, the softness of the wind rustling them around. "Research?"

She nods. "Printed out everything I could find. Took me at least 5 hours before they kicked me out of the library because it was late."

"Ahh," Liam nodded. "Did you find anything interesting?"

Lydia seemed hesitant in revealing what she found out, not wanting Liam to think of her any less of what she already is. It was the cold truth, in all honesty. Her eyes almost bulged out while reading the information over and over. She just couldn't come to accept that as a Banshee, she could also cause casualties in Beacon Hills. If any person of the pack were to find out about this before she told them, they would consider her an enemy and stop talking and hanging out with her. Then, Lydia would be a one-man army with nobody to protect her. At least, that's what she thinks.

Liam furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her with concern. "Lydia?"

When she spoke, she made sure her voice was barely heard by anyone. "I can kill people..." Her eyes were on the table, watching her apple sway back and forth.

It took a while for Liam to understand what she was saying, still not completely in control of his hearing abilities. But when he did, his face was tied in with confusion. "Lydia, what are you talking about?"

"Banshees have the ability to also cause death, is what I'm talking about." Her response came off a little harsh then intended, but nonetheless continued. "I know I haven't showed any signs of wanting to kill people, but I've done research and-" She hands him a paper. "Look, it's all about the different variations of Death Inducement."

"Okay, okay, but I think we have to go over the basics before we go into that." Liam suggested before handing back the paper and picking out what her species is. There were various versions of the information that they needed, but they all seemed similar to each other so that it would guarantee valid results. He cleared his throat and decided to just point out some key details, the paragraphs being way too long to spend time on.

Lydia nodded and rummaged into her bag for a highlighter. Once a green marker was in her hand, she passed it to the beta who thanked her with a small nod.

"So it says that Banshees can predict the death of a family member of one of the five major families: the O'Grady's, O'Brien's, O'Neill's, O'Conner's or the Kavanaghs. But it also states that most Irish families have their own Banshee, and that she wwill usually follow them even if they moved somewhere else. Or they stay where the family once lived to wail." Liam looked at Lydia. "Do you know if you're from Irish descent? Maybe from your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents...?"

She shook her head no. It didn't occur to her that her ethnicity would matter so much to figure out who she really is. All she knew is that she was Lydia Martin, the intelligent, sassy and popular little Banshee of Beacon Hills. Oh, and beautiful. "No, I didn't think about researching about my last name. My mother never mentioned about any cultural heritage that we might have had, neither had my grandmother."

The beta raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off, deciding they'll get to that later. His eyes had wandered randomly around the table, a paper catching his eye. He skimmed through it and a lightbulb went off in his head.

"What if you're from another version similar to the Banshee? Like the Bean Nighe, La Llorona, Pontianak?"

Lydia made a disapproving sound and shook her head. "No, they all have their own stories and we all know I'm a Banshee. They say that in myths and Irish legends, Banshees either have red or long white hair and they take the form of beautiful woman or ugly, frightening hags." Her eyes dangerously narrowed at him. "I have red hair and I'm beautiful."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it can prove everything." Liam pointed out. "Looks doesn't have to be about everything, Lydia."

The strawberry-blonde huffed and rolled her eyes, but moves on. "Whatever."

"Anyways, it also says that the legends and stories about Banshees date back all the way to the eighth century, probably way before werewolves existed."

"Probably. I didn't get the chance to review on that topic yet."

"Alright," He hummed and highlighted another important detail, one that appears in almost all prints Lydia got last night. "You are in the Faery grouping, spelled with an e or an i, it doesn't really matter."

"Yeah, I had a hunch it was true. In most papers that I printed, it said that I was part of a fairy grouping, which now leads us to our next topic: Clíodhna. Queen of the Banshees." Lydia almost smirked, feeling proud of the statement she issued. Of course, Liam noticed this and sighed.

"Go on, start bragging about how special you feel now that you know about a queen who rules the Banshees."

Lydia pursed her lips and pretended to act like she didn't know what he was talking about. "You're crazy. I don't even know what you're talking about."

Liam managed a small smile and shook his head. "The Clíodhna is a subgrouping of Tuatha Dé Danann, which forms half of the Celtic Deity. The other half being of Gaulish/Brythonic, but you're not related to it so we can we skip it. It's said that in some Irish legends, Clíodhna is the goddess of beauty and love."

"Okay, but does the subgrouping of Clíodhna have any associations in it?"

"Yeah," Liam circled the list of associations. "Banshee Physiology, Fear Inducement, Love Manipulation and Supernatural Beauty. Although this doesn't seem to fit in with the myths and legends, you know?"

"Those are myths and legends from way back from the old days. This is the modern world. I'm pretty sure we have discovered a more complex idea of what Banshees are today while retaining most of the original details." Lydia raised an eyebrow and took the paper from his hands. She looked at the sheet and formed another connection. "Hold on. They might not fit in with the myths and legends, but they do somehow fit in with the Banshee Physiology."

"How?"

"Look back on Fear Inducement. Do you notice anything relating to what I said earlier? About me...killing, um, people..." Lydia gulped and tried to stay calm, regretting what she said because she could feel hot tears clouding her eyes now. She hurriedly wipes them away with her wrist, but Liam catches her and tries to console her.

"Lydia, damn it, not this again. Okay, you technically aren't a killer but-"

"Whatever, I'm fine!" Her breaths are shaky and she forces all urge of crying down her throat. Lydia Martin was not going to break down about something she knows isn't proven yet. Hopefully, never. "Anyways, do you notice anything or no?"

The beta reluctantly looks back and slowly nods. "Yeah, kind of..."

Lydia groans and rolls her eyes. "Well, what is it? We don't have all day!"

"Um, we're going over to Deaton's later..."

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay, okay," He sighs, finding her a bit obnoxious to work with right now. How the hell did he get into this? Maybe he should've stayed out of this when he could. "It says something about Killing Intent- to control one's own killing intent and use it to intimidate the victims."

"Exactly. Which relates to Death Inducement...somehow." The banshee made a small gesture to what she was saying and nods.

"Okay, so that's one down. What about Love Manipulation?"

"You said that Clíodhna is referred to as the goddess of love and beauty. And so if Clíodhna is a Banshee, then there has to be a connection right?"

Lydia had gotten up from her seat and began to pace around, searching for distant answers and forgetting that she was in a public place and not in her room or at Deaton's. Liam simply watched her go back and forth, frustration getting to her. He didn't understand why she was making a big deal out of it. If he was in her position, he knew he would always ask his fellow werewolves about this kind of information about him, knowing that either Scott or Derek or both would aid him about control. But that's when it struck like a lightning bolt- Lydia barely had anyone who would be of much use to her in this kind of expertise. Of course, there was Deaton but he wasn't like her and it occurred to him that Lydia just needed another person like her who was more experienced.

There's Meredith Walker, though Liam wasn't sure if she had the necessary training on controlling her inner banshee. That said, he barely even knows her and she doesn't know him.

Liam mentally sighed and by the looks of Lydia, he decides to stick with this and help her discover what she can truly do, until she is fine on her own.

"I just think it seems confusing that the love thing doesn't seem to have any connection towards Banshee Physiology. Never mentions anything about Love, just in the myths and legends surrounding Clíodhna." The beta replied.

Lydia thought for a minute before agreeing with him. Up to this moment, nothing made perfect sense. It was a puzzle, just one more piece and everything will be clearer now. "Forget it. Let's save for later."

"Alright, last but not least, Supernatural Beauty. Um..." Liam deeply focused on the writing before spotting a key detail, something that he sincerely hopes Lydia won't break down once more because he had just had enough of it. He believes that she isn't a killer, only that she merely warns of death. Both statements were completely different on definition; something Lydia should've known by now. "Uh, promise me you won't start bawling again?"

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed and head tilted slightly. "Liam..."

"Just...promise, okay?"

"Err...fine. What Is it?"

Liam sucked in a huge amount of air and exhaled, preparing for the worst. "It's connected to Fear Inducement and Love Manipulation, but the more confusing part is that the Love thingy doesn't even make sense anymore so-" He saw the strawberry-blonde's expression and shushed her with his hand sticking in front of her, still speaking and not risking letting her scream in fear...Oh, the irony. Sort of. "So...so...so I'm confused."

After a second or two, Lydia suddenly slaps his hand out of the way and angrily huffs at him. "First of all, you don't just stick your werewolf hand in front of my face when I want to speak, alright?"

"O-o-oh, I thought...I thought you were going to-"

"To cry?" She finished his answer for him. "I wasn't."

"Really?" The poor werewolf sounded too hopefully for his own good.

Lydia smiled sweetly, then glowered down at him, making him shrink back into his seat. "No, stupid." She sighed and looked at him, pitying him all of the sudden. Lydia sat back down and crossed her legs together. "But thank you, anyways. It kind of helped."

Liam managed a tiny smile and nodded. "No problem."

Lydia was about to thank him for putting up with her and the whole Banshee scandal when she felt a presence next to her, followed by a rustling of her papers pushed against her space. She looked on her left and sighed when she saw it was Stiles.

Stiles sent her a cheeky grin and then noticed Liam, a surge of jealousy fuming behind his eyes. He felt doleful at the sight of the two together, talking like they've known each other for a long time and had a really close connection. Close enough to compare to Lydia and him. But he has Malia, is what he's repeating in his head, like a mantra. It's just not enough for him.

Plus, what would Lydia want with a guy like Liam? Not that Stiles didn't like him or anything, he just doesn't get it. But he eventually lets it go for his own sake (and because Liam and Malia could get his scent right away), and decides to peek at whatever their doing.

The rest of the pack arrive at the table and Stiles fills his mouth with mashed potatoes, picking up a random paper and studying it. Lydia rolled her eyes and begins to stuff the mess of sheets in her folder. She glances at Liam and he silently nods, knowing their conversation will go on at Deaton's.

"Banshee Physiology...interesting." Stiles hands the paper back to Lydia. "Trying to go more in depth about yourself?"

She nodded in response. "Yeah, just some research. Nothing interesting."

"I'm available if you need any help with that," He smiled sincerely. "Kind of experienced in mythology, if I do say so myself."

Lydia nodded in gratitude. "Thanks, Stiles."

"Why would you help Lydia about her Banshee thing?" Malia's voice echoed behind them as she sat right in between the two. "It's her problem, anyways. In the wild, it's different."

Stiles sighed in exasperation, and Lydia got the hint that he must've had this conversation with her many times. "You're living the human life and for us, helping other people is good and nice."

"Yeah, but what's there to learn about Banshees? We all know they scream when someone is about to die or already has. Big deal. Plus, not a really useful thing to have around." The werecoyote shrugs.

Then Stiles goes on to blabbering at her about what she said and how that was not really nice. Malia scowles but listens. They're having another conversation again.

Lydia feels like crumbling down to the floor, ignoring everyone and convincing herself that maybe Malia is right. What if everything she's doing is a waste of time? Maybe there really is no such thing as powers for Banshees after all. All she could do was scream. And for what? By the time her screams echo throughout Beacon Hills, it's too late. Someone's already dead. And all because of her, because she couldn't warn everyone that someone was going to die in time.

Maybe she should just stop.

Later, she would throw all her 5 hour research in the trash after school and cancel the meeting at Deaton's.

"So...how was everyone's day?" Scott asked, trying to lift up the heavy silence and occasionally glancing at Stiles and Malia, still in talk with each other.

"Great. Just great." Lydia plastered on a fake smile and forced all the words out of her throat, putting up a facade that everything was alright.

Scott didn't buy it for one second.

* * *

"You're seriously not thinking about throwing everything out, are you?"

Liam, who was following her to her locker after running into her right after the last bell rung, frowned and surveyed her expression, trying to see if she was lying or not. He would sniff her as well, but the look on her face told him to back off unless he wanted another slap.

"I don't know, okay? Maybe I should." Lydia shrugged and worked on the locker combination. "Why would you care if I threw it away or not, anyways? It's not your problem."

"It's not, but I'd like to help you with it." Liam leaned against another locker next to her, looking at her nonchalantly. "And why would you care about what someone else says about you?"

"Why do you want to help me?" She ignored his question. "You're not a Banshee. You wouldn't understand everything." Her eyes drifted to the folder she was carrying, but Liam took it away from her in an instant.

The werewolf understood her every word and although they weren't close friends, he already knew what she's going through and the struggles. Liam knew that he couldn't aid her in everything, but makes an attempt to do so for a member of the pack, who might soon become a good friend.

"You're right, I'm not and I wouldn't. But I do know that all of this must be hard for you, especially when you don't have anyone of your kind to guide you through it."

Lydia rolls her eyes, gazing back at him, chartreuse to a medium azure. "I've got Meredith. She's a Banshee."

"Then why didn't you go to her first?"

"I couldn't find her anywhere. I thought she would've been at Eichen, but she would never go back. So-"

"Liar," Liam said, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, my heart was steady that time!" Lydia defended herself, again lying even though he already knows. But she was being a bit playful, so he lets it go. "There's also Deaton."

"But he can't help you through everything like me or anyone else. I just want to help you know who you are because I care for the most part. You're part of the pack and a friend." Liam looks at her and hopes his sweet and cliche words got to her so that she would agree with him and not back down.

The strawberry-blonde blinks and shuts her locker, putting on her denim jacket with slightly bejeweled shoulder pads and walks down the hallway towards the exit. "For the most part? That's nice."

"You know what I mean."

Lydia treated him to a blithely smile and opened the door of her Ford, gracefully sliding in the passenger seat. The door was left open and she glanced at him. "But what if it doesn't work? What if I end up in a ritual that might leave me dead and with no answers? Then at that point, I should've thrown the papers away in a flash."

"It'll work, okay? What could go wrong?" Liam said.

"Oh, great, you just jinxed it. Now you'll have to buy me a soda before I die." Lydia deadpaned before closing the door. She gestured for the beta to get in the car and started the engine.

"I can only spare two dollars." Liam replied while shutting the door next to him.

"I want a Sprite."

He groans. "Fine."

They speed off to the nearest convenient store in Beacon Hills.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who viewed/reviewed/favorited and/or followed my story! Just realized this story will not be a two-shot after all :) Credit goes to , Superpower Wiki, Wikipedia and a few other sites that I accidentally deleted in my History browser for all stuff on Banshees, Clíodhna, Celtic Deity, and other things you guys might have spotted in the story!

Note: Last chapter, I believe I said that Banshees come from the Otherworld. I actually meant the Underworld, so forgive me for any confusion.

Psst! While writing this chapter, I think I just discovered something really big while going through information on Banshees that I might reveal next chapter. I don't know if it's going to be in Season 5 of Teen Wolf, because I think they never mentioned why Lydia wrote Stiles' name on the deadpool. *spoiler alert*

Anyways, enough blabbering. See you guys next time!


	3. Chapter 3

_Jeff Davis owns Teen Wolf, not me._

* * *

_Updated on: 1/3/15_

* * *

"I told you I wanted cold, not room temperature."

Lydia waltzed inside the animal clinic, prodding Liam at his arms while shaking the half empty bottle at his face.

The door bell chimed throughout the clinic and Deaton came out from a room, smiling at the two teenagers upon their arrival. He had blue rubber gloves on both hands, carrying two three pound bags of ice. "Glad to see you both here." He glanced at the beta. "Liam, a little help here?"

Liam nodded and set his bag down on a chair, going over to aid the veterinarian. Lydia followed them into the room, where about a total of four bags were hunched over each other in a wheelbarrow. She quirks an eyebrow and sips her Sprite. "What are all the bags for?"

The two ice bags were the last ones and Deaton turned to face her. "That's a good question, Lydia. I'll explain in a while after we go over what you found."

The banshee nods and looks over to Liam, signaling him to hand over her research. She casually shrugs as the vet skims through the papers. "It's a lot, I know, but we think everything is useful to figuring out who I am and what I can do."

"So you guys went over it in school?" Deaton implies, knowing it'll take less of their time of explaining and more of him telling the teenagers about his plan with the ice. If it worked on Scott, Allison and Stiles, it should be fine on Lydia.

"Yes, we did. But we didn't finish because the rest of the pack arrived at our table for lunch." Lydia answered back.

"And you didn't tell Scott or anyone else about it?"

The strawberry-blonde seems reluctant in telling him that she didn't. Did he want her to tell everybody about what she was doing? Would it even be a good thing that she did?

"Um...no. Well, Stiles kind of knows but barely...Should I?"

Deaton shakes his head at her, a feeling of assurance settling inside of her. "No, it's up to you, Lydia. And I told Scott to take the afternoon off. I have a feeling we have lots to discuss."

There was a sudden sound of meowing in another room, followed by a painful screech of a cat. Deaton calmly rushed out of his spot and into an appointed room, where animal cages were kept by size order and type of animal. Each cage was spacious enough for the animals to feel comfortable, filled with a cushioned blanket, food and water, and a toy or two.

Lydia and Liam followed along, looking up to see the veterinarian unlock a metal cage and delicately hold a Siamese cat in his arms. He ushered back into where the trio were previously at and laid the cat on the table, who meowed at the cold contact.

"What's wrong with him?" Lydia asked, eyes wandering about to check for any problems on the animal.

"She. Peggy has Feline Lymphoma, a type of cancer in the lymphocytes that usually happens in the gastrointestinal tract or the mediastinum of cats." Deaton explains and uses his stethoscope to listen to Peggy's heartbeats.

"Mediastinum, as in a cat's chest?" The banshee walks over to Peggy and starts to pet her.

"Correct, but it can also happen in other parts of her organs, like the nose or skin."

Peggy starts to purr at the touch of Lydia's hand, and she smiled, still running her soft fingers through the furry coat of black and white.

Liam came over and frowned. "How much pain do you think she's in?"

"I'm assuming a lot, since her heartbeats are slow. If you want, you could take some of the pain away." Deaton suggests to him and removes the earpieces from his ears. He walks over to a cabinet to search for a medication drug for Peggy. "Did Scott show you how?"

"Um, no, not really." Liam replied sheepishly, thinking that maybe he should've learned.

"Do you want to?" Deaton injects a bit of the medication into a syringe, making sure it's at the right amount. Not too little or too much. Don't want to overdose the cat.

"Uh, sure. But how?"

Once the drug was given to Peggy, the vet takes Liam's hand and placed it on the cat's stomach, near the chest area. Liam seems anxious at the process, his hand slightly trembling knowing that Peggy was on a dangerous line of life and death. He looks over to Deaton for reassurance.

"Just focus and stay calm. Don't take too much away or it will kill you." Is all he says as he keeps poor little Peggy still.

"So much for the vote of confidence," The werewolf mutters and begins. As Liam gently places his hand on the cat again more securely, black veins appear and pain shoots in his hand and arm. Peggy screeches and Liam jumps back, scared at the sudden sound.

"I don't think it works..."

"Well," Deaton lets out a chuckle. "Wolves and cats don't exactly get along. Try again."

Liam nods and timidly places his hand on the same spot, once Peggy is still. The pain resuscitates and Peggy lets out a soft meow, her muscles relaxing from its tense position.

Deaton motions for Liam to stop and listens for her heartbeats, her breaths becoming shallow. He knows that even though Peggy's pain has subdued, it was too late. The death of a cat with Feline Lymphoma was rare, but possibly.

Lydia, of course, didn't know this yet, and waited a while to pet her. Once she did, Peggy intakes a few more breaths and her heart stopped, her blue cat eyes staring into Lydia's.

Lydia quietly gasped and hot fresh tears formed around the edges of her eyes. She walked backwards from Peggy and covered her mouth with her hands. The scene was too much for her, especially knowing that she caused her first casualty unknowingly. It wasn't true, but that's what she thought happened. Why did it have to happen to Peggy? A cat that was only three years old with an owner who would mourn for her dearly. A cat that a had a brother back home, waiting for her to return and play mouse games with her.

If the owner learns that Lydia killed Peggy, she will never forgive herself. She won't even try to tell her what happened because she's sure that nobody will believe she's a freakin banshee with mythical powers she won't come to understand.

"Oh my god," Lydia croaks out, her voice breaking with every word. "I killed her...I killed Peggy..." And she breaks down for the second time, an ear-splitting wail echoing throughout the building and eventually, outside. Lydia crumbles to the floor and covers her ears with her petite hands, rocking back and forth. But she's cut short when Liam goes over to her and holds her steady, gently shaking her out of her trance.

"I killed her, Liam. I killed her..."

"No, no you didn't. You didn't, Lydia."

This was a hard situation for him. He didn't have any experience whatsoever on how to handle this, especially if a girl was involved. So he tried to convince her repeatedly that she didn't kill anyone, that it wasn't her fault. That Peggy was going to die, anyways. But Lydia wouldn't believe him. She was too focused on making herself guilty for killing an innocent animal.

Liam sighed and looked over to Deaton for help, who was draping a white cloth over the body. The vet crouched down so that he would look at Lydia in the eye.

"Lydia, it was not your fault. Peggy was going to die, either way. A death of a cat with Feline Lymphoma is rare, but still possible." Deaton says, his voice soft.

But Lydia opposes against the facts. "No, no, you don't understand..." She was sniffling, the tears gone, but the withering and woeful heavy air still ever so present around her.

Lydia rests her head against Liam's shoulder, avoiding eye-contact with everybody.

"What don't we understand?" Deaton asks.

"That I'm a Banshee and what I have and will always become- a killer." The words drips from her lips with dread and hate.

"Banshees aren't killers. They predict death, wailing when somebody is about to die or is dead." The vet pats her shoulders gently in a comforting manner.

Lydia pulls herself away from Liam and stands up, pacing around the room like a madman before stopping. "Then explain to me why I wrote Stiles' name on the deadpool. It can't be just any coincidence! I mean, the list is for supernatural creatures WANTED! Damn it, he's human!" She flails her arms by her side. "Stiles Stilinski is HUMAN."

She pulled out the list she forgot she had placed in there, hands trembling as she held it up so Liam and Deaton could see. "See? His name is in my handwriting." She points to it. "He even asked me why I wrote his name! I couldn't answer because I didn't know why..." Lydia tried so hard not to give in, but the emotions got overwhelming and a few tears sneaked their way out. She sat back down on the ground, shoulders slumped and knees to her chest. "Tell me why I would want to kill the person who I share a close connection with? Why? He didn't do anything to me, he's always there for me!" Lydia looked back at Liam and Deaton, another small sob clawing its way up her throat. "I just want answers. I want to know who I really am and how to control my abilities as a Banshee. Tell me, is it really that bad? I just don't get it anymore."

"Lydia, you deserve to know everything there is about Banshees-" But Deaton is cut short by Lydia.

"I know and I do. But first, I just want a small answer on the deadpool thing." From the manila folder, the Banshee seeked out another sheet, this one on Death Inducement. She passed it onto Deaton, who took a brief view of it.

"Look half-way. Where it says Death Inscriptions." Lydia said. "It says it's the writing of someone's name on an object or a book that has been granted death. Now tell me that can't be a coincidence." She stood up straighter and crossed her arms, lips in a single straight line.

Liam and Deaton looked at each other then at the banshee.

"But you wrote it on paper," Liam said in return, trying to find a way to make Lydia realize she is wrong. For now. "And it said on an object or a book."

"Either way, Stiles is going to die and all because of me. Unless we try to know who I am so I can reverse the curse I put on freaking Stiles Stilinski!"

It pained her to know the horrible things she's now doing to her friends. She was suppose to be the predictor of death, not the cause of it! The banshee knows this and realizes that she has become the monster of the pack. Killers are monsters, she thinks. Killers with a sick and twisted purpose are monsters. She is one, but she doesn't have a purpose for it. Lydia just wants to do it for the fun of it...or maybe because she doesn't have the full experience on how to control it yet.

But she still believes she is a monster. A beautiful one.

"Or," Deaton intervened, looking at Lydia. "It could be a warning of some sort for some reason."

"OR, maybe it's part of the process of knowing how to control one's abilities." The beta suggested.

"Could be. The possibilities are endless." The vet agreed.

Lydia thought for a bit before nodding slowly, going back to what Deaton said before. "But why a warning? For what? It's not like the Nogitsune is coming back to possess him again, is it? I'm sure we got rid of it completely...right?"

"I'm positive, but I'm not sure why his name was written exactly." Deaton replied with sincere honesty. "However, if we can get to reveal your true power, Lydia, we might discover why you did it and how to stop it."

The banshee nodded along with Liam. "But no one tells anybody else about this. Especially Scott. I prefer to be the one to tell them first."

"You have our word." Liam says and glances at Deaton. "So, about the ice..."

"The ice, of course." The veterinarian nodded and goes over to the metal table, the cat taken to another room for the time being. "Lydia, do you remember what we did to Scott, Allison, and Stiles when the Darach took their parents as hostages?"

"Yeah, you and Issac dumped several bags of ice into each tub filled with water. You had them take with them something that reminded them of their parents, so that they can figure out where they are." Lydia replied and then looked at Deaton who gave her a knowing smile. Realization struck in. "That's what it is for, isn't it?"

"Yes, but we're not going to put you in a tub."

"Then...where?" The banshee raised an eyebrow, already suspicious of what ideas the man could come up with. She wasn't sure if she wanted to partake in this, she was convinced that it wasn't an option.

"In the forest." Deaton simply stated in a calm manner.

"Wait, what?" Lydia Martin was in total shock when she heard this. In the forest? Doesn't he realize that even though they're in California, it was cold in the small town of Beacon Hills, especially in the dense forest at this time of year (although she was used to being there from time to time)? She was hardly going to survive in below freezing water temperatures, along with the slightest frigid air surrounding her. Lydia also knew she was probably going to have to wear one of those nightgowns Allison had to put on for this.

Lydia Martin wasn't as physically strong as her best friend, but she isn't one to back down on this for something that could ultimately play an important and dangerous role in her life.

"Okay...But why there? Couldn't we do it here instead?" She tried to refrain her voice from sounding too whiny, because she was going to be strong and mature about it.

"I believe it's going to benefit greatly in your abilities with wide open spaces for now, before we move into places like this," Deaton motioned around the room. "That and I don't want you to make a mess in my clinic right after your time with the water."

"It's like you know what's going to happen already," Lydia quipped.

"I might, might not. But make sure you bring something like of Allison's and an extra pair of clothing. We will probably be there for a while." He looks over to Liam, who quietly stands on the side, unfamiliar with the events that happened with Scott and Stiles and Allison, someone he never met before. "You will be very much needed to help Lydia out of the water and the stuff after that. And also bring extra clothing and a sweater. It is also possible we might stay there through midnight."

"Hold on. So...we're going to basically...kill Lydia...and then resurrect her after midnight?" Liam gulps and makes sure he has the right information.

"Something like that." Deaton agrees and pats his shoulder. "I'll explain more once we get there. Hopefully it should give Lydia at least some parts of how she has born a Banshee and how to control it."

"It could also be a family gene, maybe skips a generation?" The strawberry-blonde shrugs. "I know my mother probably doesn't have it, or she's good at disguising it. Never looks worried or nervous and doesn't scream."

"Could be, but we still need to do this. Are you fine with this, Lydia?" Deaton asks her and she nods, arms crossed as she puts the bravest face she ever wore. "Good. How does tomorrow at 6 sound?"

"I can do it. My mother is probably gone again like always until Monday at the latest." Lydia rolled her eyes at her mother's behavior and quietly sighed, never knowing when she might have a mother who will take more care of her and be slightly more interested in her life.

"No plans." Liam replied, definitely hearing her sigh and making a mental note of it, deciding to ask her about it later because he still somewhat cares for the most part.

"Great, so we'll meet up at the lake, the one with the small fish in it. I'll take care of the rest of the preparations."

With the two teenagers in agreement, they walk out the clinic, Lydia giving him a ride to his home.

Before opening the door, Liam glanced back at her and waited to see if she would change her mind about talking. When she shook her head no, the boy nodded in understanding and exited.

"I still care, you know."

"I know. For the most part." Lydia managed a small chuckle afterwards. "Pick you up at 5:30."

"Alright. Later."

"Later."

And with that done, she left his neighborhood and to the spa, because she desperately needs to relax before "dying" tomorrow night.

And then there was Kira in the spa, with a message that another pack meeting was settled for tomorrow...at 6.

* * *

Yay! First update in 2015 :D

Anyways, thanks to all those lovely people who reviewed/followed/favorited and viewed this story! Everyone's awesome!

So that was my version of what I think Lydia ,for some reason, wrote poor Stiles' name on the deadpool. Maybe Jeff has another reason for that, but I hope this one was good enough.

Oh no. Another pack meeting? How will Lydia and Liam get out of that one?

Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own TW. Jeff Davis does._

* * *

_Updated on: 1/7/15_

* * *

_No...no...certainly not._

It has been more than over an hour and Lydia Martin was still trying to pick out the perfect nightgown for tonight, something small that would fit in her wonderfully crafted Kate Spade purse.

She didn't know why she was fussing over some garment, though. It was just for this ritiual that would determine her fate for the rest of her life, but she couldn't help but wanting to feel elegant for this type of thing. Of course, there would obviously be some big flaws in this. The silk might possibly get damaged by below freezing water conditions and shrink, get ripped if it caught a twig or two through its seams, or would just look plain disgusting with the dirt and all.

The banshee whined dramatically and just decided to go with a plain black, spaghetti-strap button-down-to-the-stomach nightgown. It was simple and okay. Then, she was going to throw it out afterwards. Her closet needs a breather, anyways.

After that was done, she packed the extra bundle of clothes Deaton asked her to bring with her tonight. Lydia skimmed through her closet for the ugliest clothes she owned.

She was lucky to find something suitable for the day tomorrow. A grey sweater with the Captain America logo in the middle (yes, she was secretly a CA fan). It was a bit faded, though, so some of the rubber-like material went away and bits of threads hang loose at the edges of her sleeves. Lydia also managed to spy some yellow sweatpants as well.

If she was to be honest right now, Lydia Martin kept at least a small box full of clothes like that for the days when she just wants to relax and be her true self, sure that nobody will be visiting her. She would wipe off all makeup on her face and tie her hair in a messy bun, microwaving a big bowl of buttery popcorn and going through re-runs of Doctor Who, Castle, and Supernatural all day with her dog Prada. Lydia wouldn't let anyone see her like this, scared of what everyone will think of her instead of the beautiful and popular young lady at Beacon Hills High School. Everybody knows she's smart, as well. But not that she loves to spend time at the library when she can, studying ahead of everyone at every class, interested in reading about stuff like chemistry, astrology, physics, etc., and that has a GPA of 5.0. That, and she values her education a lot.

Lydia was afraid that if anyone knew about that, she would be considered a nerd and be called unwanted names, knocking her off of the popularity status and losing the little friends she has left. And by friends, she means the pack at school.

The banshee sighed and picked out some undergarments and socks, as well as some Converse shoes and a towel. She packed everything in a duffle bag and skipped her way downstairs, keys in hand and waving Prada goodbye, adding extra kibble and water for her.

That done, she entered her car, only to shriek when she saw a figure standing outside the window of the seat next to her. The door opened and Liam settled inside, tossing his own bag behind. Lydia was ssure she could hear her heartbeat now.

"Sorry for the scare," Liam smiled apologetically and buckled in his seat belt.

Lydia huffed and started the engine, driving backwards out of the garage and into the streets, heading towards Derek's loft. "I thought I was going to pick you up. How do you know where I live, anyways?"

"Lucky guess." He shrugged.

"Stalker," She stopped in front of a car as the red light was on.

"Wouldn't describe myself like that." He said.

"Then how?"

"I would say...nice, caring, helpful." Lydia made a sound and shook her head. "No?"

"Nice, yes. Helpful, yes. Caring...to an extent." The strawberry-blonde smiled and turned right.

"Fair enough." He nodded and looked at her. "I called Deaton and said that we're going to be a bit late."

Lydia nodded. "How late?"

"I don't know, 45 minutes?"

"Sounds good."

There was a moment of silence, and surprisingly, a comfortable one.

Liam spoke up after a while. "Are you nervous?"

"Should I?"

They had reached the parking lot of Derek's building and the engine was off, both teens sitting there quietly with tension slipping in the atmosphere, their expressions bleak. It almost makes Lydia angry that he feels the same as her, when he's not even going under freezing water to know who he is and what he can do. Because he has Scott and Derek, who are helping him with everything he needs while she has nobody who understands her. It's frustrating, but she knows that he'll probably have to carry the burden of technically drowning her and watching her float in water trying to get some memory back of her family's past.

Life's a bitch, she thinks for a moment. She's a pawn in her own game and can easily be taken off from the board if she chooses to.

"Probably. I'm pretty sure you won't die, though." Liam nods.

"So much for the vote of confidence." A pause, then a light laugh follows as she remembers Liam saying the same thing at Deaton yesterday.

"No, seriously though. You'll be fine, Lydia. We're sure of it." The beta reassures her as he offers her a pat on the shoulders.

Lydia thanked him in gratitude and crawled out of the car, leaving her bag behind including Liam's on the back seat. She added a bit of blush and some light pink lip gloss so it wouldn't look suspicious that she had no make-up on, even though Stiles would probably comment on how beautiful she looks even if she doesn't have her beauty products on.

Once she's done, Lydia and Liam head inside the building and up to Derek's loft, where she knocks on the door patiently.

The door opens and it's Kira who greets them inside, ushering them to the center of the room, where Derek is standing in front of the table, hands behind his back. He looks serious, a typical look Lydia Martin has taken notice of.

Derek eyed everyone before beginning.

"Now that everyone's here, I have a few announcements to address tonight. _Important _announcements," He glanced at Lydia at this. "So no side comments or childish behavior."

He paused for a moment and continued. "First one being that there has been an accident a few miles north outside of Beacon Hills. They said that it mysteriously collided on the side of a cliff, and a few claw marks found on the door of the passenger seat. I-"

"They?" A voice, which belonged to Liam, asked.

"Yes, the reporters on the news." Derek responded as it was the most obvious thing in the whole damn world. Liam nodded quietly in return. "Anyways, I also heard that a type of symbol was found, like a Celtic one."

"Which one?" Scott was now by his side.

"I didn't have to time to see it. Police was there already tearing through the metal of the car for evidence." The werewolf sighed in frustration.

"Which police patrol?" Stiles quipped, getting himself involved in the conversation. It was a bit unlikely that his father would be there if it was outside Beacon Hills territory and in another town. Obviously the police from the other unknown town would take care of it, but Stiles had to know. The curiousity was getting in his way.

"Both patrols. The crash happened almost half way between Beacon Hills and this other town named Villa Serena, so both police had rights to investigate."

Stiles nodded and tapped his fingers on the table. He contemplated before looking back at the pack. "Okay, I'm 55 percent sure that my dad would have custody of the sign thingy, so if I can persuade my dad to let us see it- because I know he will-"

"55 percent?" Scott raised an eyebrow at his best friend.

"Hey, I said 55, alright? It's a tad bit more than half, which should bring good things to us right now." Stiles remarked and Scott shook his head. Typically Stiles Stilinski. "Anyways, if we can get our hands on it by sneaking in at night and taking a look at it, you or Derek might recognize it."

"Or Deaton. He's good at knowing these type of symbols, right?" Kira jumped in.

"Yeah, but I don't think he's up to this kind of stuff." The human shook his head.

The strawberry-blonde looked at Stiles for a bit before replying. "Why would we want to sneak in at night, though?" It was fifteen minutes in the meeting, she noticed.

Sigh.

"Because I believe it'll be more exciting like that. I mean, me and Scotty did it once." Stiles grinned. "Oh, and Kira."

Lydia rolled her eyes and Derek spoke up before she had a chance to. "Alright, fine." His voice was gruff and ready to give orders like usual. "Stiles, Kira and Liam. You three get a plan going on how we're doing this by tomorrow night. Scott, Malia and I will go over to the site and see if we can get something else from it. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded and Lydia stood there from the sidelines, feeling like everyone was forgetting about her all of the sudden. This was the thing she hated about pack meetings. Every time they started discussing about the events that would take place, she just felt so out of place on everything, like nobody would notice her apparent existence in the room. Lydia would feel gloomy and irritated at the fact that Scott or Derek would always include Kira and Malia in whatever mission they had for them. Sure Kira is experienced in handling a sword and Malia is a freakin werecoyote, but Lydia had brains that would possibly be an important material in the situations.

Most of time, Lydia would examine everyone in the group, past and present. She would start with Allison, because she was her best friend. Allison was part of a family who could handle guns and knives, and she was the one with a crossbow who had good aim. Stiles had a bat. Just a bat, but he looked strong and brave enough to follow his best friend into the forest and fight off bad guys. Then there was Scott, Derek, Issac, Boyd, Erica, Ethan, Aiden, Malia, Cora and newly bitten Liam. Everyone one of them were strong with claws and a set of fangs to defend themselves. Each one of them had proper training by their Alphas and were experienced to attack their enemies if they wanted to.

Kira has a sword and is a Kitsune. It was enough for her.

And Lydia? What did she have in return? She was only a banshee. And screaming could be her only mechanism of defense.

She was driven out of her thoughts when her ears picked up the sound of Derek calling her name. Lydia looked up to him.

"And Lydia, you can go home. We'll call when something comes up."

She nodded and sensed hot tears behind her eyes. The strawberry-blonde left in a quiet manner, the only sound being her heels clicking on the floor. She didn't even notice the apologetic look she was getting from Liam.

At her car, her small hands rested on the steering wheel tightly, breathing in and out so that she wouldn't have to tear up again. Her glistening eyes narrowed at the reflection on the mirror, angry features taking over her pretty face. She took a small glance towards the building and with a scowl, she started the car and rolled out of the parking space.

_Then why did you bother inviting me if I don't play a role in this mission? _

Is the last thing she thought before leaving the place, screeching tires heading for the Beacon Hills Preserve.

* * *

Lydia Martin treaded through tall grass and twigs, holding a flashlight in one hand and the duffle bag in another.

Swirls of pink and tangerine orange with streaks of coppery gold flashed in the sky as she hopped over a stone, the sunlight gently hitting her form; soft waves of hair glowing brilliantly, framing her face in the right places. The thick, brisk air was beginning to set in and she kept on going, not stopping to admire the sunset but instead, reeling in the warm sensation tingling on her hands and face.

It was a while until she reached the place where Deaton said he was going to be. She settled the bag down and looked around, perching herself on a log, now taking the time to look at the sky and the town lights flashing below, twinkling stars taking over alongside with the moon.

"Beautiful night, don't you think?" Deaton appears behind her, carrying a bag of ice -the last one- to the small lake.

Lydia turned around and stood up, going over to help him.

They started untying the bags and dumped the chunks of ice into the water, already turning misty from the added cold.

Deaton glanced at Lydia. "Where's Liam?"

"With the pack," The words came out a bit more harsh than intended to, but that's how she just felt tonight, even though she knew it wasn't Liam's fault at all. "Talked about some sort of accident that happened outside of Beacon Hills and they're making a plan about finding out what happen and this symbol thing. They don't know what it is so that's what they want to figure out."

Deaton nodded. "And you?"

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"Did they assign you to anything?"

"No," She sighed and tossed an empty bag to the side, getting another one to open. "Nothing, really. Stiles, Kira and Liam are working on a plan and Scott, Derek and Malia went to the site for more clues. Derek just said to go home."

The veterinarian hummed and finished tossing the ice into the lake. He set the bag aside and sat down on the log, motioning for LLydia to do the same.

"And how do you feel about that? Does it make you angry? Distressed? Like you're missing out on stuff?" He asks her.

"I was angry before, still am." Lydia shrugs and looks down at her boots. "I also feel like...they only pick the strong to be in the group, when on missions and stuff like that."

"And why is that?"

"Well, because everyone has something to protect themselves with. They know how to fight and handle weapons; and I'm just the damsel in distress crying every time I need someone to rescue me. I don't know how to defend myself. I don't know how to handle my powers when everyone else knows. I don't have superpower strength to run fast and attack. I don't have claws or fangs. I don't have anyone who can believe in me anymore..." Lydia feels like she's going to crack at any moment, but she keeps on going, words hitting her like a thousand bricks hurling at her. "I don't ever know what's going on in this stupid, damned world anymore."

The doctor listens to each and every one of her words, taking in the dread and anguish in her tone. He reaches out for her and rubs her back comfortably. "The strong doesn't always have to be physical, Lydia. It can also be mental."

"Yeah, but what's a big brain going to do for the pack? They survive on the strong because a pack is stronger together, right? Exactly. I mean, I know Stiles is kind of scrawny but at least he can aim right with a bat! And I can't. I just can't." She sniffs and runs her fingers through her hair, sighing in frustration and covering her face into the palms of her hands. "Sometimes I wonder why they bring me into the meetings. I barely get to say anything and I'm just sent to go home and wait for new things to happen and la la la la la. I'm just not worth their time. And they're not worth mine. Maybe if I was strong enough to ffight the Nogitsune, I could've taken Allison's place and she would still be here in the pack because she's a strong fighter, the strongest and bravest I've known.

And yeah, a few tears here and there on my grave but I would soon be forgotten and they would be winning their battles because they're stronger as a pack. And you also know what? Maybe I should just leave, go find out who I am without them and probably find myself a new pack. I mean, I'm no werewolf or anything, but..."

Now she was talking nonsense nonstop and she knew this. And when she did, she sighed and rubbed her face tiredly. Lydia gave a small smile and shook her head, even though more than half of her entire speech was true. "What a small world we live in, huh?"

"I believe so," Deaton chuckled and stood up, looking at his watch on his wrist. "I think it's time to do this. We'll wait for Liam first, but go ahead and change in the tent I set up and stay inside for now. It's cold to be waiting outside for the moment."

With a quick nod, Lydia stood up and headed for the tent, taking her bag with her. After a few minutes, she sat inside quietly, rubbing the palms of her hands together, creating friction which causes heat. Lydia had a long sleeved shirt under the gown and her makeup was removed.

It was about half an hour before she heard leaves crunching and a new voice out in the forest. About time.

"...sorry it took me a while to get here. Derek-"

"I know, Lydia told me."

"...Oh."

A tap on the tent and the Banshee took a deep breath, bracing on a valiant face. She stepped outside the tent and into the cold night, in nothing but her clothes and flip flops. Lydia gulped and walked towards the lake, then turning around to face Deaton for further instructions.

"Do you have your item with you?" Deaton asked, hands in his coat.

Lydia felt chagrin at his question, but nodded nonetheless. Goosebumps trickled her entire body as she showed him her valuable. It was the book, "The Little Mermaid", one that she and Lorraine would always read when Lydia would go for a visit. It meant so much to the strawberry-blonde, so much that she was 110 percent certain it would work. "I know it's a book, but I kknow it'll work. It has to."

"Okay. Don't let it out of your grasp. I added a small barrier in the lake, enough that you have space to fit in." The veterinarian replied.

Lydia nodded and looked towards the lake, spotting the barrier he added in. She hummed and raised an eyebrow, glancing at Deaton, her hair blowing into her face. "Where's the fish?"

"I took them out and placed them into a tank until you're done." Deaton said. "Unless you wanted some company."

She formed her lips in a straight line before looking ahead, eyes lingering on her surroundings. "Um, no, I'm good."

Slowly, she stretched out a foot into the water, softly whimpering when the ice made contact with her toes. But she forced all emotions down the pit of her stomach and went through with it. Liam arrived at her side and aided her in going into the lake, making sure she wouldn't back out or have a panic attack.

He noticed Lydia's pain and nervousness and decided to take some of it away, when she looked at him and shook her head.

"Please don't. Just let me bear with it. It'll be over soon enough."

He nodded in understanding and now watched her float in the water, her hands gripping the side of the barriers to sustain herself for now. She was as pale as hell, and he could hear her teeth chattering in cold.

Deaton sighed and simply watched the two teenagers before speaking up again. "We don't have much time, but you need an anchor, Lydia. Same thing as Scott, Stiles, and Allison."

She thought about it for a moment. An anchor? Wasn't the book enough to bring her back? Apparently it wasn't. But where would she find her anchor and who would it be? Did it have to be someone specific, or anyone in general? She remembered what Deaton had said before, something about finding the one thing that could bring a person back in an instant, something that was close to her.

Lydia didn't know anyone else she had a close relationship with, other than Allison and Stiles. But they weren't here. She thought about Liam. He was here, but was he enough to manage bringing her back? As much as she hated knowing the true answer, no. It wasn't. Although Lydia had spent the past few days with him figuring out all these clues and whatnot, she still doesn't know a lot about him and couldn't call him a close friend yet.

So basically, she has no anchor at the moment.

With a shaky breath and a tight grip on the book, Lydia Martin turned to Deaton and Liam, praying that this won't kill her.

An attempt at a simple shrug, she slowly let go of the barrier and said, "I don't have an anchor."

And she plunged herself into the frigid water, the book on her chest with her arms wrapped around it. Her lips were sealed and blinked for the last time before shutting them close, a deep sleep overtaking her state of mind.

If it worked on Scott before, it better work on her as well. Damn it, it better.

* * *

Well that was interesting. For me, anyways :)

Shout out to all those who reviewed, liked, followed, etc.! You're the best! ;D

Wonder what's going to happen next? Who knows? The next chapter will be all about Lydia's journey during the ritual, so no Liam or Deaton or anyone else. Probably.

Until next time!

P.s: Happy New Years, everyone! Resolutions are usually a waste of time!


	5. Author's Note & Sneak Peak

_4/17/15_

Hey guys. I know it's been a while and I'm sorry for the wait! Because of school and everyday life, I couldn't get a chance to finish working on this story. But I'm letting you guys know that I'm not abandoning the story at all ;D I still have lots of ideas for this one and future stories! I might be writing a Kickin' It story later on if anyone knows about the show :) I still can't believe I missed the finale.

And now, here's a sneak peak of the next chapter in TBotB. :) chapter 5, part 1.

...

"Foggy grey skies cover the night and a draft of cold air sweeps the forest ground, dragging the dry leaves around as if they were its puppets. The trees were bare and the branches seem to resemble a monster's arms, scaring tiny children in their sleep. There were no stars, so it was almost pitch black in the forest. If anyone were to trek around the place alone and with no light, they would have to be careful with the sharp points of the branches and the dangerous rocks alongside the cliffs ahead.

This was the situation for Lydia when she woke up in her dream state.

The strawberry-blonde stood on a tree stump and eyed her location around, trembling with fear as she couldn't depict her surroundings. At first, she thought she was in like a different version of the Beacon Hills Preserve, but quickly ruled it out as she felt some kind of sensation telling her no.

But it was definitely a forest she was in..."


	6. Chapter 5: Part One

_I wished I owned Teen Wolf. But I do not._

* * *

_"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen;_

_A gaseous nebula must collapse._

_So collapse._

_Crumble._

_This is not your destruction._

_This is your birth."_

_~ unknown._

* * *

Part one

* * *

Foggy grey skies cover the night and a draft of cold air sweeps the forest ground, dragging the dry leaves around as if they were its puppets. The trees were bare and the branches seem to resemble a monster's arms, scaring tiny children in their sleep. There were no stars, so it was almost pitch black in the forest. If anyone were to trek around the place alone and with no light, they would have to be careful with the sharp points of the branches and the dangerous rocks alongside the cliffs ahead.

This was the situation for Lydia when she woke up in her dream state.

The strawberry-blonde stood on a tree stump and eyed her location around, trembling with fear as she couldn't depict her surroundings. At first, she thought she was in like a different version of the Beacon Hills Preserve, but quickly ruled it out as she felt some kind of sensation telling her no.

But it was definitely a forest she was in.

Lydia placed her arms around her and rubbed them as she set forth to wherever her legs would take her. It was freezing and she instantly regretted doing this whole ritual and not wearing pants as well. She was going to be honest, though. She was terrified. Like, really really terrified. So much that she felt like she was going to cry at any moment. But she had to be strong, Lydia told herself. It was enough that the pack didn't think she was strong, so why burden herself with even more negative thoughts when she came here to prove them wrong (not really), and find out who she is?

No, no more. Lydia Martin was done with that. She was going to erase Scott and Stiles and Kira and Malia and everyone else in her freaking mind. She needs to concentrate.

She needs to be brave.

And today, Lydia Martin was going to be a brave woman...right after she controls her urges to cry after stepping on a sharp rock.

If there was any pain involved in this, she would've felt it immediately, but only a tingle of where the contact happened was there. Lydia let out a shaky breath and raised her foot to see if any cut was present, and there was none. Just the skin of her foot was there. No scratches, blisters, blood. Nothing.

Lydia gave a sigh of relief and continued to walk on, thanking the advantages of being in a lucid dream.

It was only twenty minutes later when she saw the first sign of light glowing in the distance. And the faster she walked towards the light, the more balls of flame she could spot, torches resting on the walls of homes and cats frolicking around with their dead mice.

Of course, nobody could hear or see Lydia so it wasn't a big problem for her.

She stepped out of the shadows and noticed groups of people (specifically woman) walking together with red capes over their bodies and faces. They weren't carrying baskets so at least Lydia knows she isn't in a world with the Little Red Riding Hood version of it. That and she also spotted their features as well. Some were beautiful human beings with sparking eyes and distinctive facial features that spoke for themselves. Lydia smiled. Others were just downright ugly and it showed. Lydia frowned. But they were, like, in their old stages so...

Either way, the Banshee sighed and followed close behind a group, wondering where they were going. While en route to wherever, Lydia decided to see if she could walk through stuff. Obviously she couldn't, so the perks of being invisible did not totally apply to her.

A few minutes later, she found herself walking into the woods again. At least this time she has light to see afar. The women made small chat, mostly talking about the rare time of day their leader had decided to make an announcement.

Lydia eavesdropped on almost every conversation, most of time unappealing and bland. She did wish to know the time, however. She could ask, but how? She can't be seen or, probably, heard at all. Then, a young girl, almost nearing adulthood asked about the time. A woman with frizzy grey hair and wrinkly bags under her eyes looked at her with a scowl and said, "Dear god, young lady. It's 1899 and you're 18 years old, but you still can't tell the time!" The hag sighed and looked at the shadows casted upon her. "I believe it's a quarter past eight."

Wow, 1899? That was more than a century Lydia had traveled back to. She was definitely surprised.

The girl thanked her quietly and scurried to the back, where she tugged the hoodie of her cape tightly around her face. Lydia felt angry at the old woman's tone to the girl, but she couldn't do anything. So she kept on walking and stared daggers at the woman's back the whole way.

They eventually arrived at their destination, having pass by a secret passageway where the walls of stone and rock were closely compacted, but not too much so that the people would have access going through there. They also went through bushes of dried flowers, the thorns giving Lydia a tingling sensation one after the other. And now, they stand in front of a metal door that had patterns of Victorian design on buildings. If Lydia would be able to correctly recall, it was currently the Victorian era in Britain, so it did fit into today quite nicely.

The doors creaked open and the women hurried inside, the soft patter of water raining down on them as the sky thundered loudly. Lydia followed suit and saw a giant round table made out of marble with chairs around it, as well as some on the side for the extras. Each person took their seat, with others standing beside a wall because there weren't enough for everybody. Lydia huddled in a dark corner, watching the event unfold itself.

A person stood in the front of the room, her back to the people gathered here. She was also wearing a cape, but in black instead of red. Lydia instantly assumed she was the leader everyone was talking about. The woman huffed and turned around in a swift manner, one of her heels stomping on the floor for extra effect.

_"Dramatic," _Lydia thought with a raised eyebrow.

The woman had wavy blonde hair and stormy gray eyes, looking to be about in her late thirty's or something like that. She eyed everyone in the room before speaking up, voice loud and commanding. "This isn't something I would normally do under these circumstances, but it had to be done. We are all a family united, a family of banshees who - before leaving this place - will solemnly swear to me and each other that we will never use it again, under any reason. You will all abide in it, whether you like it or not!"

Lydia shivered at the tone of her voice and knew other people did as well. But what the lady said sparked Lydia's curiosity even further. They were all banshees? Just like her? But what was it that they weren't allowed to use anymore? Was it a power? A secret nobody knows of? The strawberry-blonde couldn't believe what she was hearing. At least this dream was getting at something interesting.

Some people were giving each other hesitant glances and worried looks, but nodded nonetheless.

The leader continued. "After this meeting, no banshee shall ever use their form of power again! It doesn't matter what type, you are forbidden from it. Is that understood?"

Murmurs traveled throughout the people, some thinking it was outrageous and others believing it was for their good the leader had decided in. Lydia, however, was still confused. It didn't answer her question. What was the power she was talking about? Was it what Lydia did when she wrote Stiles' name on the paper? When she predicted their death caused by Brunski that never happened? If that was the case, then thank God it was being addressed here. Lydia nodded at the thought and then focused on the audience in front of her.

One woman stood up defiantly and was glowering at the leader. "You can't be serious, Alaine! How will we be able to defend ourselves and the village?"

"Exactly." Alaine stated, ignoring the woman's attitude towards her. "I don't want us to harm anyone else in the world. What we have is dangerous and we don't have enough experience in it."

"But that's because you don't teach us anything about it! We always have to self-teach ourselves! It's not fair!" Another one said, this time a 14 year-old.

"I have little knowledge about it as well, young lady. I'm trying to protect all of you of the danger we risk to everyone. We won't just go outside and fight our battles like this! It's common sense, but it seems like none of you seem to get it." The leader frowned and started to walk around the room, hands behind her back. Lydia tentatively followed her.

"The officials doesn't seem to be happy about this." The girl said, pointing to them.

The officials of the village stood evenly on each side of the room, with half of them being men. At least the system of government they had was fair. They masked on a straight face but Lydia could see their disappointment in their eyes. It's as if the leader didn't consult with them first about the decision.

"That's because I didn't bother to speak with them about it in the first place. It's my decision and as I said before, I don't schedule meetings like this very often." Alaine responded in return, avoiding eye contact with the officials.

"Beacon Hills needs us."

Suddenly, everyone turned their heads to the back and stared at the door, where a new figure appeared. The lady's cloak was dripping wet and her hair got stuck to her face. She wasn't angry or anything, but she certainly wasn't happy either. The woman closed the door shut and stared at Alaine.

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows and looked at the ground, crossing her arms as she pondered about this new information. So it was 1899 and this took place in Beacon Hills. But when she was at the forest, she felt like she wasn't at the Preserve. So it could be that she's somewhere near Beacon Hills. Simple, right?

No. It was still too confusing for Lydia. She needed more time to figure it out.

"You're late, Geneva." The leader huffed. "And you don't know what we were talking about." She looked back at the crowd of women. "Would anyone like to explain-"

"I know what you want us to do. I stood outside the door and heard every single thing you said. I was just waiting for the perfect time to make my presence known and to say that I object your proposition." The lady, Geneva, said. Alaine frowned in response.

"Beacon Hills doesn't need us. Let the others take care of it. We are not and I don't want us to be killers." Alaine sighed in frustration and thought that everybody would have gotten her point by now.

"But we can help! We're strong and if we can manage to practice more-"

"No." The leader's tone was suddenly cold and harsh, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "We aren't strong. They are, but we aren't. We are just women. And women are weak."

Geneva was in astonishment and so was Lydia. For some reason, hearing the words pop out of Alaine's voice was so much different than hearing it indirectly from the pack. It's like banshees had referred themselves as the weakest creatures all this time, just because they were women and they could only scream when someone's dying. Then, Lydia gasped quietly and had thought of something else. Could it be that that was the reason why the pack felt like that about her? Because they must've read about her species and it said something about Banshees being weak? While Lydia felt some kind of happiness that they cared enough to know about what she is, it angered her as well. Why would they insinuate that about her? Yes, she was popular and smart and most of the time wore dresses with heels and makeup, but it doesn't mean that they can jump to conclusions like that! (They kind of can. She isn't really strong, in a physical sense.)

However, from what Lydia did her research on, it never said something about banshees being weak. So her thoughts were proven to be completely irrelevant.

Geneva shook her head in disbelief and stared at Alaine right in the eyes. "I cannot be believe your words right now. You are to be a leader and a leader has faith in its people and what they can do. A leader believes that he or she is strong and so is their people. A leader does not divide us in half and say that women are weak. You are a woman as well, and just said that you are weak. You are not a leader. You are a disgrace."

"Say what you want, but I only do this for the welfare of the people." Alaine replies.

"No, you do this for your welfare." Geneva shakes her head again and then the people start whispering, obvious surprised at the turn of events. It was rare that anybody would stand up to her in that manner, because she's usually the understanding and calm type of person, the one someone would look up to.

There was silence. Tension and dread hanging over the crowd.

Lydia slightly cringed and it felt like it lasted forever.

Finally, Alaine sharply exhaled and stared into Geneva's eyes. She didn't shuffle around, fidget, squirm. Her face was expressionless and the crowd watched her in fear suspense, so was Lydia. At one moment, Lydia could swear she saw Alaine's eyes linger where she was directly standing, which was behind Geneva. Lydia was a bit scared since she was a Banshee as well and god knows what she can do that is "dangerous".

"If you don't want to follow my orders, then you are free to leave." The leader said, pointing to the door. She pursed her lips into a thin line and narrowed her eyes.

"Thank you, but no thank you. I would most prefer to try and defend our privileges, as well as aiding Beacon Hills in what ever they need because you don't seem to understand that." The other woman said in a calm manner, clearly stating her point across. Lydia had a feeling that she knew what she was getting into, but still keeps on going.

"I do, but I said no."

"I do, but I say yes."

Again, silence.

"I could easy just eliminate you in a second, if you prefer."

"Funny. You said we aren't killers. That includes you too."

"Exactly, but that doesn't mean I don't have alliances with anybody."

Regret knocks into the leader's mind and everyone starts whispering with horror and disgust about their own leader. Alaine curses under her breath and stomps her foot on the ground, gaining everybody's attention. "Everybody out! This meeting is over! Today, anyone out past midnight are to be punished! OUT."

Everyone scurried out the door, avoiding Alaine's glare towards them. The rain still poured heavily on them, the thunder going on strong. Once outside, they scattered away into the forest and back home. They wondered about their curfew, since they never had it before, but went home nonetheless, ready to tell their husbands, children, friends, siblings about what happened.

Back at the cave-like room, Lydia was staring at the two people left, whom were looking at each other with unreadable expressions on their faces. The strawberry-blonde, for some reason, felt a chill run up her spine, like whatever Alaine was going to say would mark the reason why Lydia couldn't fully develop her abilities yet in the future. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

"You are not to step in my territory for whatever reason, do you hear me? I will have guards watching everything, so don't you even think about passing by here any time soon. Your little game is done. I'm not changing my decision and you are not going to defy against me anymore. You lost to your own game and I'm surprised you haven't cheated along the way." Out of the blue, Alaine grabbed Geneva's arm and spread some kind of liquid on a type of symbol that Lydia didn't even notice it was there. The black ink of the symbol faded away and Alaine let go of Geneva's arm. Geneva stood there with a somber look, now knowing she had lost completely.

"Tell my mother I'll be back soon," Geneva pulled back her arm harshly and put her cape on. "Because you know this isn't over."

She sneered and left without a sound, purposely slamming the door shut loudly as if proving a point. Lydia glanced at the woman behind her and then started to follow Geneva.

It was still pouring dreadfully outside and Lydia heaved as she chased the woman in front of her. It was tiring, considering how she normally doesn't run this fast and this far. Thankfully she wasn't creating any noise that would come from the twigs and dirt, so that Geneva wouldn't be alerted by her presence. Eventually though, Lydia came to a halt as Geneva leaned against a tree, for some reason covering her right side of her stomach. The strawberry-blonde wanted to ask her if something was wrong, but knew she couldn't.

So instead, she waited for Geneva to look at whatever that was bothering her, but she didn't. Geneva groaned in pain but took off once more. However, Lydia didn't miss the single drop of blood that stained the edge of a rock. The strawberry-blonde stared at the blood before looking at the distant body of a running person.

Lydia began running after Geneva once more.

* * *

The burning rays of sunlight came down on Lydia's face as she took in a deep breath, her eyes darting back and forth to see where she was. She was leaning against a dry rock in the middle of nowhere and it dawned on her. It seemed like after the events of 1899, she was taken 30 years into the future and she still looked better than ever. Geneva was in her late 40s and Lydia had to admit that she was impressed by the fact that, even though the location they were in didn't provide much moisture but enough food, Geneva still kept on going strong.

With the heat revolving around Lydia, she had to get rid of the undershirt she was wearing and make something out of it to protect her head, which was searing in burning heat making the ends of her hair split. Lydia dunked the shirt in cold water that Geneva and her had came across to. It did little in assist, but worked either way.

A while later, Geneva sat inside in a makeshift tent, made with branches, leaves, and rags and anything else they could find. She had a thin rag around her shoulders as she sorted the food she hunted today. Lydia huddled in a small corner, knees to her chest as she nibbled on a berry quietly. Her eyes went to the lady on her right.

Lydia couldn't recall her name that well, but she knew that Geneva and her had encountered the woman a few days after the meeting, who had agreed with what Geneva said. She also said that she saw what Alaine had done with her with the banishment, so she had brought some sheets and food over for her.

It was risky, yes, since it was illegal to take anything from the village out of territory grounds. But everything was in completely chaos by the time Geneva left and it made it easy for the woman to escape. Every women at the meeting started gossiping about what happened, which got the interest of the men, which in turn, caused them to start talking about the issue as well. Those who weren't all over about the daily gossip eventually became part of it, unfortunately adding in the extra unnecessary problems.

But either way, the lady got out alive and unharmed and couldn't imagine whatever had happened after her departure. It was best not to think about it anymore.

Lydia Martin kept watching the two women with an unreadable expression, somewhere in between curiousity and agitation. Her eyes darted back and forth, after a while, her mind wandered some place else. The strawberry-blonde began thinking how long she has been here. Probably an hour or two, but it felt like a life time being here, trapped inside her own mind until her limit was over. However, it would take at least another ten or eleven hours to wake up, just like with Scott, Stiles and Allison.

She nimbly plucked another berry from a branch, the skin tinted with speckles of purple and she rolled it in between her fingers, before popping it into her mouth. It was slightly mushy and bitter, needing another week to completely ripen.

/\/\/\/\/\

It was nearing ten at night and the winds started to come out from its hiding place, gradually picking up speed at a moderate pace.

Lydia mentally sighed and thanked mother nature for the relief. Taking off her makeshift hat, she nestled in a dark corner, only using a few rags half of her size that she collected as covers. The strawberry-blonde was about to close her eyes when she heard a voice ringing throughout the tent. Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed. They just had to talk right now.

"The winds are picking up."

"I know."

"Is the tent strong enough?"

Geneva glanced at her friend. "And since when have you doubted me wrong?"

"I hear something."

The friend looks around with wide eyes, an intriguing aura surrounding her. She doesn't peep a sound but it doesn't scare Geneva. The woman takes in what she sees- walls of sheets that are plastered next to her.

It was hard to make out what the woman was thinking, or her face expressions. Lydia raised an eyebrow and secretly hoped that she wasn't going insane.

"The winds are getting stronger."

"Go to sleep, Octavia." Geneva sighed with fatigue and laid on the floor, making herself as comfy as it could possibly get.

It got quiet as everyone settled in, sheets rustling to accommodate one's self and the swoosh from the outside. For a second, it seemed like everyone's asleep. Then, Octavia hummed a lullaby and with a ghostly whisper, she said, "They're coming. And we all fall down."

Lydia Martin has never been that scarred for life.

* * *

The next morning went by like a breeze. The two middle age banshees went out into the wilderness, picking the ripest berries, hunting, and gathering water to drink, bathe and for washing clothes. The tent stood still throughout the day, only the slightest breeze rocking it back and forth sometimes. Lydia stood at the corner of a tree, watching everything happen.

She kept repeating the phrase Octavia said last night _'They're coming. And we all fall down.' _It was strange how closely it seems to relate to an old nursery rhyme that was aabout the bubonic plague, 600-700 years ago. "Ring Around the Rosy" it was called and Lydia suddenly felt tense, shoulders rigid and not too keen anymore to explore more of her 'dream'.

What does a plague have anything to do with this? Let alone, a rhyme? If it did, it probably wouldn't be literal, more like a connection to symbolism or figurative language in this case.

Now thinking about it, Banshees have the ability to sense death and given the circumstances...well, it could be something bad. Could be.

Lydia rested her hands on her arms, criss-crossing each other over her chest. Her eyes wandered mindlessly around the ground, and that's when a blast of air hits her gently on contact. Her skin forms goosebumps and she looks up, straightening her back and she knows Octavia and Geneva notices as well because they stop what they're doing and grab their nearest weapon. Geneva; bow and arrow, Octavia; a stone rock with long sharp points everywhere.

They all waited for a moment, the wind picking up and hitting their faces second by second. The two women stay still, only focusing on the fog that is secretly creeping in from the forest. Lydia Martin couldn't stay still or even focusing on what's going to happen now. Questions are floating around in her mind, shifting from one to another, as well as being unable to comprehend what she's thinking. It bothered her a lot, and just thinking about it made her itch.

Her heart beats faster and the hairs of her neck stands up, as she watches a group of figures with grey cloaks and worn-out boots running towards them, then skidding down to a halt when they see Geneva and Octavia. The woman in front of them looks back at her group before settling her gaze at the duo.

Lydia believed that the woman looked like she was in her early 20's, the smooth skin and the lack of wrinkles making her seem like she was that age. The strawberry-blonde also assumed that she was the leader, since she had a silver tattoo of some kind of symbol Lydia didn't recognize, and the others didn't.

The woman raised both hands as a signal of peace and started her little speech. "Please, do not raise your weapons. My name is Amanda Kosovo and we are peaceful civilians who are escaping from dangers hunting us, and you as well." She looked back at where she came from and then grabbed Geneva and Octavia' s hands. "We must hurry and leave. They are coming and we don't have much time. Hurry!"

Geneva crawled out of her grasp and aimed her weapon at the Amanda. "How did you find us? And what do you want from us? Who sent you here?" Her glare was unforgiving and harsh, but she kept a calm and strict demeanor. "What are you?"

"Must you start an unwanted riot right now, fellow stranger?" Amanda bit her lip as she glanced behind Geneva. "You don't understand. We want nothing of your like, but to protect those we have left. Miss, we know who you are, and you must realize that we could be the last ones standing sooner or later-"

"So you're a banshee," Octavia spoke in a soft voice, going over to observe the group. She came over to Amanda and grabbed her arm and stared at the silver tattoos. "Alpha, Beta, Omega."

"Yes, that is right," The leader nodded and went to explain even further, withering her hand from Octavia's soft, but firm grasp. "Currently we are of Beta status, unfortunately, reeling into Omega sooner or later. Our Alpha was killed a while ago while on a trip to the city of Portland."

"Oregon?" Geneva fiddled with the hem of her sleeve.

"Yes, where else?" Silence. "Ma'am, you must believe us. This isn't a joke, we can assure you that, but if you want to stay alive, then..."

"We can handle being alive on our own, thank you very much." If there was one thing Geneva didn't like at all, it was when others assume that she can't handle doing something on het own. It was as if nobody could trust her and that really made her angry. Of course, she didn't show it as she hid beneath a mask of peace and serenity, since she believed that at her age, she shouldnt be acting out with a hot temper.

But she did, and Lydia was sure because she could practically feel the burning energy radiating off of every single inch of Geneva's figure. It gave Lydia bad vibes.

"They're a group of hunters, in packs of four, dangerous and cunning. I forgot what their last name was -family pack- but I do know that they're associated with another group. Last name of French origin, meaning 'silver bullet'. The Argents."

Amanda turned her attention to Octavia as she began to explain everything there was to know. She had noticed Geneva's tone in her voice, in which she took it as a sign to not talk to her anymore. Amanda didn't seem to realize that her words had a different effect on the 40 year-old lady, from the way it was said and stuff. But she was concered and by any means, didn't mean to offend her.

It was cold. Any sound from the outside world drowned in silence.

The winds were picking up. Very fast.

She blinked once, twice. It had to be a joke. It probably was one. She couldn't find the irony there.

There was no more wind.

Everything was white and...

The wind came back.

But Argent? Had she heard it right? Was it really 'Argent'? Like, Argent, as in Allison Argent? Or maybe they meant 'Margin'? They did sound the same. Sort of. But who's last name is 'Margin'? Stupid.

Of course it was Argent. She heard it clearly the first time and now she had her brain play tricks on her self. But why were the past generation of Argents in terms with the other group? Did they have a deal of some sort? Or were they family friends? Relatives? Or just plain enemies forced to reconcile in order to get what they want by working side by side? Sometimes, that's what enemies did and Lydia took that into consideration.

There was gaping hole in Lydia's heart, just hearning the family name made her want to bury her head into her arms and chest and cry rivers forever. But she was better than that. The only reason she thrusted her self into her family's past was to find out everything there was to reveal her powers, and that she had the guts of a pretty intellectual to go and do it. Lydia Martin wasn't going to give up now. Certainly not, as the fun has yet to begin. And it already did.

The bump in her throat was forced down and Lydia began to focus on the connecting strings she has now. There's a group of Banshee murderers on the loose, she knew that. But why it was connected to the Argents is unknown. From that, she went on to what Amanda had said before. Their alpha was killed while on a trip to Portland. Just the Alpha. Some betas were with the alpha as Lydia recalled, since Amanda has now gone into that topic again with Octavia and a now curious Geneva.

News travels fast in a period of 30 years, and Lydia could remember waking up that one day, about a few days ago, the chants of death circling around her.

Alaine's death.

The alpha.

That's another piece of string.

It wasn't a day later when her body had been found, seemingly dumped by a river bank, neck slashed and deep gashes on both of her wrists. The town went into chaos. Some thought it was murder. Others, a suicide. It's still unknown but nobody wanted to find out, anyway.

Lydia wanted to make an assumption on the spot, but she knew there was still more to go. She decided to look at her life and that of her family, to see if there was a connection.

And there was.

Her and Lorriane. Natalie didn't seem to have anything to do with this, but Lydia would save her for later. If it was worth a shot.

That was mean. Talking like that about a mother. And mother's day was like two weeks ago.

Lorraine was killed at Eichen House. By Brunski, the same person who almost tried to kill her and Stiles.

Lorraine was a banshee and she never lived long enough to see if she had any powers at all, other than screaming and breaking glass mirrors. Lydia narrowed her eyes slightly. Was her own grandmother an Alpha? Alphas are usually strong (physically and/or mentally) and are leaders of a she remembered that Lorraine required many nurses and a psychiatrist, so she was probably unstable. But that didn't mean she couldn't be an Alpha.

There are many versions and meanings about being strong in one's self. Could be physically, mentally. a strong will, or being strong in heart (was that a thing or what?)

Another string.

Lydia sighed and she looked into her self. Everything clicked.

Peter almost killed her. Derek was sure she was the Kanima and wanted her dead. Jennifer Blake almost killed her. Brunski almost killed her. Las Calaveras would've almost killed her.

And they all knew she was a Banshee. Peter revealed her basic Banshee abilities, Derek had no clue until now, Jennifer was surprised and astonished, Brunski already knew and Araya also knew.

But was she also an Alpha? How? And why?

And if everything Amanda was saying is true, that the population of her own kind was dwindling (Lydia can't find anyone else who was a Banshee other than Meredith in her time), and that they are and will always be the center of the target, what did it mean for Lydia and her fate?

What made Banshees so special, special enough to be wanted dead after all these years?

Lydia almost forgot she is still being hunted by the Benefactor. Damn.

But she did assume this: the best strategy to knock out your opponent, is by getting near them without them knowing. As the saying goes, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Or in this case, kill off the strongest ones first, since most will rely on them, being the leader they are. Once that's done, the rest will be easy.

Both work fine either way.

Lydia's senses tune back into reality and she could hear the unmistakable scream of the Banshee.

They were here.

Ready to kill.

* * *

_Would an apology even be acceptable at this point? Oh, I don't know, but here goes nothing._

_II'M SUPER DUPER SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN SOOOOO LONG. Freshman year is tough and considering how I love the Marvel movies so much, now with Age of Ultron in theaters (it was freaking awesome!), I spent most of my time with social media and reading lots of Avengers stories and TV :) _

_But I am sorry though for making you guys wait like shit. _

_Has anyone seen the new trailer for Teen Wolf? OMG I'm getting the feels right now lol. And poor Lydia :0 But she's gonna be badass this season. Can't wait! _

_Thanks to those who are still sticking with the story! _

_Read, like and review! _

_See you later, alligators! Let's see what happens to Lydia next chapter :) _

_5/23/15. _


	7. Chapter 6: part two

I wished I owned Teen Wolf, but I don't :(

* * *

_"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen;_

_A gaseous nebula must collapse._

_So collapse._

_Crumble._

_This is not your destruction._

_This is your birth."_

_~ unknown._

* * *

Part two

* * *

Nope. Not friendly at all. Not even a smudge.

In packs of five, they jolted out of the woods and perfectly executed a 90 degree turn that was so sharp and impossible to make the curve at the right moment. These creatures came to a steady halt a few feet away from the leader of the cluster of young Banshees.

There was no sound other than the steady heartbeats of both sides, save for the occasional growl given by one of the creatures. And there wasn't any awkward tension at all.

Lydia had to stop herself from cringing and crawling back to the shady trees (even if nobody could see her), where she had the privilege of curling up into a little ball. The creatures looked an awful lot like the Berserkers and they seem to be alone, without their leader (for example, Kate), if they even had one.

They wore masks, which were made entirely out of stone and not bones. And that's what their whole armor was made of, anyways. Nobody could see their flesh underneath as well as their eyes, the holes for the them being pitch black. What was supposedly their hands was covered in cloths and shark teeth gave in as a replacement for their fingers. Each one of the "berserkers" had a spiked collar on their necks with symbols that -again- Lydia didn't recognize; probably Latin or something, a different dialect. Whatever it was, though, it didn't leave Lydia feeling calm or serene.

At least she remembered to be grateful for being a ghost in her own dreams.

The Berserkers huffed and clanked their hands and armor together, as if they were trying to say something because they couldn't speak. Lydia wanted to touch the collar of the creature, making a theory that if she touched it, she would get some sort of foggy reading from the symbols. Technically, it would be impossible and she can't touch certain things other than any form of food available. For some inexplicable reason, she had to eat something during her dream state, even if it'll only last for a few couple of hours. Sometimes food was surprisingly good and she'd always contemplated about getting a second serving (which is rare, since she's usually full with only one serving), but at other times, she'd very much prefer the frozen pizza leftovers and a quickie night stop at Starbucks or Baskin Robins. Even at 1 in the morning.

The Berserkers-look-a-likes began to orbit in circles around the group, sometimes adding a clank of their hands to add extra emphasis that they should all be intimidated by them and to surrender before it's too late. And technically, it is too late, if it wasn't for Geneva' s lack of trust and endless strings of questions, they would still be running for their lives in nothing but dirty, clad robes and shoes that are at the brink of ripping at the seams. But they didn't seem to care; if anything, it was for themselves and only themselves. Reasonable, Lydia thought.

What seemed to feel like five minutes were just passing by wasn't even a full minute when the attack had just begun.

One of the berserkers snorted loudly and without decency to say 'sorry' before swinging its humongous arm down at one of the banshees, who had the fortune to dodge the attack, her nose dangerously almost coming into contact with one of the spikes. The spikes were as sharp as the tip of a well-cared knife, so one accidental misstep to the side could've deep cut her nose bad enough that anyone could see the depth of her skin and bones from the injury. That or nose surgery, which, now thinking about it, would probably be worse than a silly cut. Lydia shivered.

Soon, all opponents began to battle against one another, a mess of tangled limbs and the sharp clanging of iron on iron, to loud grunts of force and the will to not give up yet. And, of course, lots of blood.

Geneva used her spear as her sword and shield, blocking out the attacks a berserker was giving her, trying to find some sort of leeway on her blocking. Eventually she would've twirled the spear with her fingers in a finely executed motion, using the tip to plunge it into the depths in between the bone cage armor and the empty space, hoping to hit something along the way. The berserker howled and shook violently before barring its skull teeth at her, knocking her off ground with a swift kick to the shins. She recovered quickly with an impressive flip for her age, the spear never falling out of her hands. Amanda nodded in amusement before knocking out the living daylights of a berserker.

"So-" Geneva spins around to face yet another one, while keeping her conversation with Amanda intact. "What's the plan? Keep beating them up until we win? Split up so we don't become too overwhelmed by the constant incoming of berserkers?"

"As I would be one to suggest that," Amanda quickly ducked down to miss a strike to her head, one that could've been fatal. "we can't. Taking a bunch each by ourselves wouldn't help at all, and thus, would increase our chances of getting beheaded. I still can't find my knife, though." Oh yeah, earlier a berserker knocked her over and sent her knife flying to who knows where. She knew she wouldn't stand a chance diving into the bloodbath just for an iron weapon, so she went with her tactict that was basically just dodging and praying for dear life until she could spot it again. The berserker seemed to have all of the time in the world to keep attacking her over and over again instead of finding someone else. Stubborn piece of shit.

A berserker went down and Geneva tore through the creature's body with her spear, already stained with the darkest shade of red and possibly some insides as well. And if that wasn't gruesome enough, anyone could see the gaping hole in the creature's chest, the heart pretty much still responding, even if it's due to turn blue and rot away sooner or later. That could've easily made someone repulsive, and Geneva was damn well trained to hide these kind of emotions. "I've been through much worse as it is, young one. Do not underestimate me."

Amanda nodded firmly once, a clear sign of new found respect for the older woman. "Yes ma'am."

She turned around to survey the scene in front of her. There were screaming and shouting, blood on the fresh grass that stuck out in different sizes, the clashes of stone against metal- everything. Her teammates were like her soldiers, with her being the mighty captain. And on the battlefield, soldiers willingly fall to protect those they love and care about, regardless of them knowing exactly what they've signed up for. And as Captain, she is forced upon to watch them slither away to a world where the roses bloom freely and where happiness is just a smile away no matter where you are. She'll get that privilege soon, but for now, she'll keep her foot on the ground and try to defend who she is. That's what everyone's fighting for and against- for identity, for status, against their infamous title as the most dangerous and bewitched creatures in the world (dubbed by those who dislike them ALOT). They are dangerous; but only because they don't know how to control it properly yet. And they're not "witches".

Now more of her soldiers fall one behind the other, their bodies slumped to the ground with a faint 'thud', something she could hear as far away from where she's standing after shaking herself out of her little thought bubble and the metaphorical crap she was making up. Or simile or who gives a damn. Now she couldn't think straight.

"There's too much," Amanda stated in an exasperated sigh. "-not enough weapons. We have to do it."

"Do what?" Geneva looked at her with confusion.

Exactly Lydia's thoughts. What was Amanda planning to do? What was her pack thinking now? And so far, truth be told, Amanda was right. She now has a shortage of people and the weapons are no where to be found. She couldn't fight all the berserkers by herself, even with Geneva by her side.

"Something we were forbidden to do a long time ago."

As if on cue, Amanda's remaining pack looked at her and then back at the berserkers. Suddenly, their eyes began to glow a soft yellow pastel before shifting into a vibrant lavender, with some of them getting slightly tense, clenching their hands. Others stayed in control of themselves, steadfast and defensive; chins up and backs straight as they stared at their enemies.

A faint scream sounded nearby and chaos broke loose everywhere.

Everything was a blur to Lydia's eyes as she tried to reel in what was happening at the moment. The sounds were jumping from one volume to another, going from soft whispers to loud static, unable to merge into one solid setting. She tries to open her eyes completely, but the streaks of blinding light and, what seems to be puffs of white smoke (or maybe she was hallucinating), were overwhelming, eventually forcing Lydia to keep her eyes shut before she tried again.

And apparently the third time was the charm.

Once she got her eye sight restored at its full potential for now, she began to see what was really happening. All of the Banshees were fighting back, moving their hands around like they had some type of force within their palms. And they did. Lydia looked at one of the women and what she saw fascinated her, at the same time, scaring her. The woman retracted her hands back before pushing them forward with tons of force, and the berserker in front of her went flying away a few feet away, landing with a loud thud as it collided with a tree. From what Lydia could analyze, the woman's palms let out a silver blast, its energy scattering everywhere, but focusing primarily on the intended target.

But the real danger was what Lydia noticed afterwards. The berserker laid unmoving on the ground, no flinch or a single breath in and out. It was dead. Just with one blast. And so were the grass and flowers that were affected by the rest of the energy that escaped out of the blast.

No wonder the berserkers were trying to get rid of them. Because they were a threat. These people were dangerous. The Banshees ruled over the highest position of the supernatural chain and they needed to be taken down one way or another.

Lydia Martin is dangerous. Lydia Martin is a threat. Lydia Martin is being hunted down. Lydia Martin has powers. _Real _powers.

She has never felt so powerful and reassured like this before.

A sonic scream lulled her back into the real world as she saw someone go down, that person's remaining energy bursting out and scattering at all sides, affecting every thing that comes across its path, and unfortunately, that includes the rest of the Banshees.

One thing Lydia has learned is that direct contact between an object and the energy source its self leads to dire consequences: instant death. A skim can lead into progressing death, unless treated immediately.

After that, all was chaos once more. The rest of the dwindling number of people were having difficulties in controlling their powers, the blasts going in random directions and they were all lucky enough not to get hit for now. As seeing their immediate struggle, the berserkers let out several growls, seemingly communicating with each other, since they have an opening to an opportunistic attack.

Minutes went by which turned into about half an hour, and no luck. They seemed ready to give up when a sudden gust of wind hit everybody, the Banshees and the berserkers putting their arms up in front of them as a shield of sorts. Then Lydia was dragged into the wind currents and the rest became an instant blur. An experience she'll never forget.

The winds picked up and they got stronger by each minute. Lydia couldn't seem to keep up and she felt like she was being suffocated, as if this dream was going away and she'd have to return to the real world. But since when was her world "real"?

Her lungs were pounding and tightning, an aching sensation in her body that she begged for it to go away. It was as if her insides were being lit up by fire, the flames tickling her organs at a suffering pace, slowly developing into one huge flame that was eventually going to engulf her as a whole. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut as if that was going to make anything better.

She didn't know what happened next, but she felt her body loosen up in a second and being dragged in a series of graceful movements, her arms and hands and fingers following in a rhythmic motion that made her seem like a goddess of grace. Her insides felt relieved and the enraged fire was no longer there, being replaced with mellow flames that represent in a good way.

What Lydia didn't know was that she was the wind that was secretly aiding the Banshees a long time ago. Her movements helped maneuver the womens' aim into a better fit, eventually letting them defeat the berserkers for now.

Once Lydia didn't feel dragged like a puppet anymore, she opened her eyes and surveyed the scene breathlessly before her gaze landed on Amanda. Without thinking about it, she sprung into action, running towards her before it was too late.

Everything turned into slow motion as Lydia skidded in front of Amanda, stretching her arms to protect her. The berserker had a long, sharp knife in which it was in position to skewer Amanda's stomach, just like one of the monsters did the same to Allison.

Allison was like the second-in-command for the group, the important one who wanted to protect the people she loved, the one people trusted and counted on. Amanda was like her, except she is the leader who's needed right now and Lydia wasn't going to let her leave that easily. If she could help maneuver their powers around, then she could damn well do the same with the knife. If only she knew how wrong she was...

Unfortunately, Lydia came a second too late, but a second too early as well. The berserker managed to stab Amanda on her side, blood oozing out at steady pace and onto the grass. However, when Lydia got in front of her (sort of), she also experienced some kind of numbing sensation in her body. Like the knife had actually stabbed her, but through her eyes, it didn't. The sensation wouldn't stop however and she soon felt her knees wobbling as her hands went to cover the spot where she was "stabbed".

Lydia felt herself tumble onto the ground but she didn't know what was wrong with her. The berserker didn't stab her (the sensation told otherwise), so what was up?

Amanda fell to the ground and her energy dispersed. They all screamed in unison.

Lydia couldn't help but join in. She had failed, even if that wasn't her mission at all.

* * *

There were boxes of chinese take-out and fortune cookie crumbs littered on the forest floor.

Liam had to go all the way to the nearest restaurant to order their midnight dinner since they hadn't eaten at all from 5 or 6 p.m and on. 'They' being Dr. Deaton and him. Said doctor didn't want delivery because the delivery guy might find it suspicious to bring food in a forest, so he had Liam go walking a quarter of a mile to the restaurant, and back again. The beta didn't object.

It's been almost six hours since Lydia had gone down and Liam began to frown. How long does it take to do this ritual? How is she not drowning already? Not that he wants to, he's just curious. And is she going to be okay?

He knows that he's only gotten to meet her thoroughly for a few days, but just getting to know Lydia better and not judge her based on the mask she puts up everyday, makes him feel like a good friend and good friends care about each other. He knows it'll take a while until they can reach their same opinion on their friendship status, but he's willing to be a good sport about it. Liam understands why Lydia is afraid of showing her true self. All of her life she's spent hiding herself from everyone, wanting friends and to be popular. And like all cliche story lines, you have to be pretty and pretty and pretty and pretty. And wear lots of pretty clothes and, most of the time, be rich. If you're a boomworm and super duper smart, you're a nerd, therefore a loser nobody wants to be around. If you wear black most of the time (even if it's your favorite color), you'd be considered an emo or a punk. If you're weird and have your own different styles of doing things or have some weird hobby, then maybe you're a freak.

No matter who you were, everyone was categorized only by the way they look or act, not sparing a second glance at nobody. Lydia didn't want to be a nobody. She didn't want to get laughed at because she her IQ was way above everyone elses, or because she loved all of her classes even though she knew all the material by the time the school year has started. So instead, she began to be a bitchy, selfish little girl with enough ego to have everyone love her. She threw the best parties and sat with the populars at lunch time, in their own VIP table. She watched all the chick-flicks and rom-coms with the girls and her William Shakespeare books were replaced by issues of Vogue magazines and catalogues. Of course, even before changing herself, she still loved to shop and go the salon to get her nails fixed and her hair pampered. That never changed.

Lydia Martin was too fixated on making everyone love her for who she's really not, when she should've been loving herself. She's too insecure and Liam is determined to help her with that. Because that's what good friends are for.

The beta sighes rolls his head around a few times, rubbing his eyes with his hands while he's at it. She hasn't woken up yet, he thought, and stood up from his chair, stretching his arms and legs before grabbing a plastic bag and picking up their trash. Once done, he tied up the bag and set it down next to the tent, so he could remember to throw it out next morning.

Liam looked around, as he was bored, and spotted Dr. Deaton, still working on some glass bottles for three hours straight. The man looked tired but went on to do his job, stopping every once in a while to sneeze or stretch. Liam felt sympathetic towards Deaton and was about to offer him a chance to sleep when he smelled something very familiar and knots began to form in his stomach.

It was a faint scent of blood and Liam checked himself to see if he had any cuts, even though he was sure he didn't because he would've felt something if he did. And they heal quickly so he wouldn't really notice it. His werewolf senses were kicking in and began to quietly sniff around the place, around the trees and close to Deaton's work space. However, no blood could be smelled from the doctor and Liam's frustration was growing...And so was the smell.

Then it hit him. What if...what if the blood came from Lydia? What if something happened to her? She could've been bitten, even though Deaton reassured him that all the fish and any other creatures were taken out of the small section of the lake. And the doctor also told him that nothing should happen to her while in her dream-like state. _Should_.

With a tentative glance towards the lake, he began to walk slowly to Lydia, the metallic smell of fresh blood getting more powerful and hard to bear with. With a final count of 1,2,3, he peeked at the little space and his eyes were wide open as he tried to process what was freaking going on.

Lydia Martin was in the water, covered in fresh blood and it was coming from near the abdomen. She wasn't moving and she probably wasn't breathing as well. He took in deep breaths and shouted at Deaton. "Dr. Deaton!"

The doctor looked up at the mention of his name and saw Liam crouching over the pond, serious and getting panicked second by second. "Liam, what's going on?" He began to jog over to him.

"It's Lydia," Liam says and looks at the pale, fragile body. "She's bleeding and I don't know why!" His heart was racing and he didn't know what to do. What was he suppose to do? His friend was in trouble and she needs help, and Liam is willing to do so. He just doesn't know how.

Deaton arrives over quickly and looks at Lydia, examining where the blood was coming from. He frowned and quickly surveyed the pond's surroundings. There was nothing that implied danger to Lydia, he was sure of it, since he had taken all precautions to remove everything he thought would affect her. Deaton glanced at Liam, who seemed to mentally debate about whether or not he should take her out of the water. "Don't take her out; if you do, the ritual will immediately end and I'm sure Lydia won't be too glad about it."

"But if we don't, then she might die! It's better to have her alive than to see her life going away because of a stupid ritual." Liam argued and huffed in anger.

Deaton went away to bring all the supplies needed to treat Lydia's wound. He understood well enough both arguments that was being made. Lydia has had enough of being treated like a little child who can't take care of herself, a damsel in distress. She wants to know and understand where she came from, and Deaton acknowledges that. Lydia wouldn't want anyone to stop her from doing that, whereas, because of this, somehow, she managed to get herself hurt and Liam wants Deaton to pull her out and save her, ignoring the ritual that has injured Lydia. Both very reasonable arguments, but that didn't mean he couldn't fufill both.

With a quick and fluid motion, he carefully stepped into the freezing water, and stopped for a second to get himself as comfortable as he can, before waddling over to Lydia's injury, Liam looking at him incredulously. He ignored the look and motioned for Liam to hand him the scissor from his bag. Liam handed him the scissor and the doctor took it, cutting off a piece of the fabric that was in between him and the injury.

Once a rectangle shape was made, the gash was clearly visible and Deaton identified it as a stab wound created by knife. He quickly got to work, Liam handing him the correct materials all the while trying to stay calm in a situation he has never experienced before.

He had to stay calm, for himself, for Deaton and especially, Lydia. He didn't know what to do at first, but his first instinct was to not freak out. His friend was in trouble and he had to be strong for her. And now that he's helping out to try and save Lydia from whatever happened to her, he might as well be of good use and continue to support her in trying to find out what she really is and if she really is important in the supernatural world. He knows she is, but she has to find that out by herself.

_Don't worry, Lyds. You'll be fine. I promise. _

* * *

So here's another chappie of this freaking story. I'm so bad at updating frequently, so I'm super duper sorry! But, hey, at least school's over for me today :) So I'll be focusing more on my stories and combating writer's block, because it's like the worst thing in the world, I swear -_-

Anyways, the USA goes up against China in the Women's World Cup :) So excited to see how everything turns up. Too bad Rapinoe and Holiday are out, they got yellow cards when they went up against Colombia on Monday -_- Ooh, and now all 50 states legalized gay marriage. Finally, some equality and happiness for those people. Congrats!

And I just joined a role play for the Avengers, if anyone is interested :) It's called Avengers: Age of War and it takes place 6 years after the Civil War.

So, next chapter will be posted in July, somewhere in July, and the story might be finished around August or September. My next story will be Avengers related, and this time, I'll only post the first chapter once I finished writing all of the story chapters. I'll edit the chappies while I update the story :) Now that's a good plan.

Hope you enjoy this one! What'll happen to Lydia next? Is she going to make it or not?

I'm so evil.

Updated: 6/26/15.


End file.
